


Skyrim: Plaything

by GT_The_Beast



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Adventure, Adventure & Romance, BDSM, Devious Devices, Deviously Cursed Loot, F/F, F/M, Mind Manipulation, Non-Consensual Bondage, Oral Sex, Public Humiliation, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:16:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 96,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28392282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GT_The_Beast/pseuds/GT_The_Beast
Summary: Elayne the Dragonborn has found a book that lets her see into a different world. One where the Dragonborn has already won. So begins forays to steal the information she needs to complete her own legend, but every time she goes into that world, some of it bleeds back into her own. And she herself is changing in ways she can and cannot notice.Devious Mods are inherent in the story, as well as other mods you might be able to guess. Come for the smut, stay for the plot! Join us for this curious ride as someone who helped write the UESP finally puts pen to paper for fanfiction.
Comments: 7
Kudos: 45





	1. Chapter 1: Another Way

It had been five weeks since she had last been through Ivarstead. She had pored over every single tome and record in High Hrothgar, and taken notes on dragon script to the point that her little journal was filled all the way through. Notes, potential connections between the Greybeards and ancient threats to Ravenspire. Strong voices with long memories. Not that she would hold them at all responsible for the actions of their ancestors. Elayne hadn’t found anything at all useful in their records for finding an Elder Scroll. 

The only recommendation they had was to go to the College of Winterhold. Which of course she _couldn’t_ do. She had gotten into trouble with Collete, and had been suspended from her studies. They were both Bretons, so she had thought she could ask her questions about Deadra. Colette panicked and kicked her out of the college when she heard that she had spoken directly with a Daedric Prince. Apparently she was not supposed to do that. 

Ivarstead passed as quickly as it came, the small village giving way to the lake near it. There was a small island with a cave on it, and Elayne cast a Waterwalking spell to cross the frigid water. Adventurer she may be, but the waters in skyrim were frigid. Getting wet meant finding a fire and drying out your sodden things. Her newly acquired armor felt snug after weeks spent by the fire reading and writing. A few days hard walk would cure that, she knew. She had the set custom fitted for her by Adrianne Avanici over in Whiterun. Fitting into regular armor here in Skyrim was hard, for her. Her waist so waspish, her torso long and willowy and her breasts barely there. And then there was her ass. Since she moved to Skyrim she hadn’t bothered to wear anything but dresses, as her ass was huge. Paying for a tailor to custom fit anything to it was expensive, so her pack had three or four decent dresses to wear. As well as a cloth wrapped package at the bottom. She didn’t want to think about her Great aunt’s gift to her. 

At least _that_ fit. The armor of the Bretons of Skyrim, more feather and bone than cured fabric. Her Great Aunt was one of the matron mothers of one of the Forsworn tribes, and thought she should have a fitted armor on her travels. But Elayne didn’t have the courage to wear that. She didn’t have much to show off, and most people considered the Forsworn enemies here. Not to mention she hated being cold. The armor covered very little and warmed even less. This Elven armor was the first one that managed to show off her ass and waist. Everything else since she had acquired was either tight on her ass and loose on her waist or just baggy.

She skated across the water, revelling in being able to move freely again. High Hrothgar was cold, and after weeks on the frosty peak it felt good to just be free. Her hair was in a messy bun under her helmet, kept clear of the air and water. It wasn’t something she was very proud of, either. It was the color of dirt, and curled excessively. 

On this island was another one of those Nordic ruins, one she had been through to put together the Gaulder Amulet. She had almost died in here, and knew that everyone avoided it. It made it a perfect location to do what she intended. There were sinkholes within that went into a flooded ruin, but the cave itself had enough light and space for what she needed. At the bottom of her pack, past the wrapped up Forsworn armor and spare underclothes was another bundle. Except that this was a daedric artifact. 

The book was worn, covered with multiple types of parchment and fabrics that she couldn’t fully identify. The pages were thick, and one of her spare breastbands was wrapped around the book to keep it closed. The knot came undone, and she sat down on top of an old chest to read. A candlelight spell helped the atmosphere, and Elayne took a deep breath. When she opened the book, a single sentence seemed to bleed out of the parchment.

**What Path of Secrets do you seek, Champion?**

The Oghma Infinium. A literal part of Apocrypha, able to impart knowledge and secrets to any mortal that reads it. It was also the reason she was kicked out of the College. It was intelligent, or reflected the intentions of Hermaeus Mora. “I seek a specific secret.” She whispered, afraid that the village a mile away could hear her. 

The words shifted. **All Knowledge has a price. Speak your desire, Champion.**

Her armor felt tighter for a moment. It was not often that the Daedric prince of knowledge bargained. “I need to know how to defeat Alduin. It’s my destiny, but no one knows how to do it. Only a Daedric Lord would know how to defeat something Aedric.” Or at least, it was the most likely way she could learn how with the college barred to her.

 **There is a book in the hands of a Dunmer named Maluril. Obtain it, and you may discover the secrets you desire. But be warned. The price for each piece of knowledge is devious.** There was a flash of magic, and the Daedric Artifact disappeared. Left behind in her hands was a single item. It was an iron circlet, wider than her arm and rough in design. A single bonded ring hung from the front, and offered no other explanation of its purpose or intent.

As curious as the item was, the name Maluril was already known to her. Deep in her pack was a crumpled contract. An agreement that she would kill someone. She had always felt on edge about it, and chickened out before she would kill another person. The screams of Grelod the Kind still haunted her, and she hadn’t been in Riften since. There might be a price on her still. But the Dark Brotherhood wanted her to kill someone again. A Dunmer named Maluril. She knew where he was, and exactly how to approach him. 

But if it were for the sake of killing Alduin? She could afford to kill one man. One man would be a price the world should pay. Her own life was already at risk, after all. Within the hour, she had a carriage moving towards Morthal. And from there, Mzinchaleft and the Dunmer she would have to deal with. Idly, she played with the object in her hands. It was curious, the iron ring heavy enough to imply great strength and equal in size all throughout the ring. There was no way to open it, or pull it apart. Whatever it went to, it did not have any give to the design. Spinning it, she began the long ride to Morthal.

“Did you hear, someone has been called to High Hrothgar!” The cheerful wagon driver began. 

“I’ve not heard.” She gave the easy lie. “What does that mean?”

“Oh, we Nords have a legend about a hero that would be born, called the Dragonborn!” The overly chatty driver said. “No one has been able to tell who it is, yet. They wear a mask all the time, they say.” Elayne still kept that Dragon Priest mask, wearing it in towns to hide any kind of embarrassment she might feel. 

“Really?” She asked, faking interest. “What are they saying about this hero?” It was good to be unknown to these people. She could save them from Alduin and then disappear back into the life she really wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Items Acquired:
> 
> Iron Collar (Simple)


	2. Chapter 2: The Book

Mzinchaleft was a gigantic dwarven ruin. The old walls stood strong, and were populated with bandits. The shoddy armor and decent weapons were a giveaway. Two campfires were burning bright into the night, looking warm against the gloom of Haafingar. She was cold already, and she had been hiking all day. Her humongous ass had a way of losing all heat from a stiff breeze. In the frigid air of Haafingar it felt more like an icicle. 

The bandits had set up defenders at all of the entrances to Mzinchaleft, and had archers on top of the walls. It would be risky to attack it. So, she got as close as she could before casting the perfect spell for her needs. The Calm spell hit both of the front guards, making them blink heavily. She stepped out of the darkness, waving to them. 

“May I approach?” She called.

“Aye.” The ensorcelled man in front called. “But no trespassin’!”

“I’m here to see Maluril. He’s expecting me.”

“Well. Great! You must be one of his buyers. We’ve been digging up Dwemer shite for weeks.” The bandit brightened. “Welcome to Maz-in-she-left.” He garbled, getting the pronunciation wrong. “This way.”

Behind her helmet’s cover she swallowed in relief. Elayne didn’t want to kill people, she was supposed to save them! Even these bandits were meant to be saved from Alduin. “I brought some ale for you all. I hope it goes the distance.”

“Aye! Now that there is a smart lass!” The Nord spoke loudly, getting the attention of those around. “A buyer has come! And she brought booze!” 

There was a raucous cheer from the bandits, who brought her over to one of the bright fires. Elayne warmed her hands, almost wishing some of that heat could reach through her light armor and unfreeze her ass. But one calm spell and she was inside the ruins. Getting out would be another matter entirely. There had to be twenty of the bandits in this place, their chief a massive orc with steel armor. “I wasn’t told of a buyer.” He growled, glaring at her. 

“Maluril sent me a message about Dwemer gear. I’m from the Synod, looking for supplies for research.” If Elayne knew anything, it was about magic. “He said you have some deconstructed spiders I can buy.”

“He didn’t send no letters anywhere.” The orc grumbled. “You brought gold?”

“Left it with the carriage.” She admitted. “I’m supposed to see if he has the supplies. Once I verify that, I can bring the whole carriage and buy as much as you’ve dug out.”

“Too bad.” The Orc said darkly. “I hear that most mages have fairly deep pockets.”

“The powerful ones, yes.” Elayne responded. “But most of the apprentices are so poor they consider dropping out and doing anything that gets them more coin. I’ve barely got any on me.” That much was true. If you didn’t steal from Nordic ruins the undead wouldn’t rise as much. She only took gold from those that tried to stop her, after all. “Can you show me the way to him?”

The orc laughed. “Take her. Leave the ale, though. Helps against the cold wind.” Her ass might disagree. Half the total weight of her backpack was dumped out onto a snow-frozen table, alto wine and nord mead clinking as they unrolled. Most of it was bought in Morthal, and the rest had been in her bag for the particularly lonely nights. Skyrim wasn’t a nice place, and sometimes it helped to have something to sleep. For Elayne it was nightmares of being beheaded. Oddly she never dreamed about dragons, or feared them. But the axe that barely missed her neck had her terrified when she dreamt about it. 

The interior of the ruin was warmer, but only by a little bit. A large cookfire burnt in the middle of the great hall, and Elayne was able to smile at the sight. She could smell pheasant and slaughterfish cooking, a stew boiling merrily. “Come on, he’s just ahead.” Her guide muttered, his stomach growling. “But you can see that we’ve got the goods.” Wagons whole and damaged were in the hallways, filled with giant cogs and the remains of dwemer automatons. “Can’t get any of the moving parts without fighting those nasty things.”

They passed a barred door leading deeper into the dwemer ruin, coming to a small set of bedrooms. Only one of the rooms had a closed door, which the bandit knocked on. “Hey! A buyer is here for you!” 

It was just her and the bandit in here. Her left hand was resting on the pommel of her sword, her right aching to prepare a spell. There was a thumping from the inside of the room, the door cracking open. “Who are you?” The mer inside hissed. His accent sounded like he was from Morrowind.

“I’m Jeannette, from the Synod? Here to verify you have any dynamo cores for purchase. In addition to other research materials.”

The red eyes narrowed. “The Synod?” He hissed. “Fine. Come in.” The door was cracked open only enough for her to slip in, before he slammed it shut. “Who are you, really?” His voice was like a gasp. Most Dunmer she had seen looked ashen gray normally, but this one looked as though his skin was drying out and cracking. 

“I’m here about the book.” She whispered, equally quiet. 

The Dunmer narrowed his eyes, looking angry. “I don’t have anything you would want. Now, you have seconds to justify your life or else I shall end it.” 

His spell was just a hair slower than her enchanted dagger. His hands froze, the paralysis effect keeping him in place. Pieces of frost stuck to his fingers, the spell nearly complete. Most importantly, there was no noise from the other side of the door. “Sorry.” She whispered. “Someone wants you dead.” It felt like being a hypocrite to say the truth to him. But she shoved her steel dagger home, his body slumping into her arms. He wasn’t a large man, but it took all of her limited strength to put him in one of the beds and covered up the corpse. 

He had a few books in his bag, as well as some potions and gold. Evidently not enough to pay for the bandit’s service. The small room had a desk, upon which there was a couple of books. One was wrapped in a false binding, claiming to be  _ A Children’s Annuad _ . But those children’s stories were never quite this large. The second book was a journal that seemed so threadbare and worn that it lacked a binding. In it were simple ramblings about leaving Cyrodil and not paying the bandits. There was one last page at the back, stating that there had been a book in the deepest part of the ruins, and he couldn’t help but study it. A final note was at the bottom of the page.  _ Captured Dreams _ . Elayne rubbed her arm with a rag, hiding any evidence of blood. She hadn’t heard of that before, but that was the sum total of the items in the room. 

“Nothing else in here…” She whispered. “It must be this.” Her hand touched the larger book, the pages almost moving without her input as the book slammed open. 

**Captured Dreams** was the title. That was the name of the book! She turned the page, seeing broken letters that came together into words depending upon which way you turned the book. Flipping it over, she could barely make out the word ‘Mirror’ before having to turn the book sideways to finish the sentence. “Mirrored,” She spoke aloud. “Experiences.” The words seemed to shift, the book drawing more of her attention as she turned it once more to see where the sentence led. “Stolen Secrets?” She sounded out, as the book glowed. “Ahh!” The world around her darkened completely for a moment, until the light returned. The room around her lacked the body of Maluril or any signs of his being there. It looked cleaner, if anything. 

“Are you alright?” The nord bandit called through the door. “Miss?”

“I’m fine.” She called through. “But Maluril doesn’t seem to be here.”

The door opened, the Nord looking different. His hair was cleaner, and his armor lacked stains or dirt. “Don’t know anyone by that name. You ready to examine the rest of the ruin? I am sure your Synod will profit from whatever is at the bottom of this.”

Elayne was confused. “But what about Maluril and the dynamo cores?” 

The Nord shrugged. “You told us you were here to see the points of interest. No idea who this Male-uh-reel is.” He looked her up and down. “You’re a bit overdressed for a tour.” 

It was just armor. He could get over it. “Fine.” She said. Whatever had just happened was magical in nature, and she should really just get out of here. Sliding the book into her bag, she gave a final glance around the room she had just killed someone within. Not a single sign was on the floor or walls. But there was some blood on her sleeve from when she dragged the corpse. This didn’t feel like an illusion, but it did feel like a trap. “Show me this place.” Elayne could use an invisibility spell and escape once she was back in the hallways.

But even those seemed different. Wagons had been cleared out. Dust still cluttered the corners, and there were clear signs of organization. Cogs and levers were in piles, and a few dwemer chests were in clean lines across the ground. “We finished clearing out the upper levels, but the lower levels still have some spheres and spiders from time to time.”

“This seems organized.”

“Ever since the Dragonborn came through here, we’ve all been changed for it.” The Nord grinned. “He showed us so much, and kept us out of the war.” 

“The war is over?”

“Not by a long shot. Stormcloak may have lost at Whiterun, but Tulius lost at Dawnstar.” The Nord added seriously. “Anyone that wants to stay out of the war can come to one of the three dwarven ruins and become part of the group staying out of the war. We fight the Falmer in the places they come out of the ground, and can sell anything that comes up from the deeps.” 

They came into the room with the cookfire, and Elayne was wracking her mind with thoughts. “But the Dragonborn..” 

“He’s the greatest person to have come through Skyrim!” The Nord cheered. “He stopped Alduin, and then Harkon and Miraak after that!” 

“Harkon? Miraak?” She started to ask, before looking over at the fire. “Oh Gods!” Right next to the fire were a man and woman, lacking any kinds of clothing whatsoever. He was also balls deep inside of her! Body heaving, the woman was holding onto a bench as her entire body shuddered around each of his thrusts. 

“Oh, Merelda!” The Nord smirked, looking over. “She got cursed a while back. Another month and she should be over it.” There was another Nord in the room, just simply watching this happen. Her clothing was skimpy in a way that even the Forsworn wouldn’t dare to pull off. “She just needs her fix.”

“Why not in a bedroom!” She averted her eyes, blushing madly. 

“Because of her curse.” The Nord explained. “Look for yourself!” 

She dared to look between her splayed fingers, watching as Merelda rode the man, moving forward and then quivering back to slam into his hips. It was  _ hot _ to watch her do it. Elayne felt warm, watching someone else having sex right in front of her eyes. It was entrancing, in a way. Then, all too soon it came to an end, Merelda pulling the cock out and aiming it into a bowl. “Wait, no!” Elayne whispered, realizing what she was doing.

“Oh yes!” The Nord laughed. “She likes it in her soup, thanks to the curse.”

“What is her curse?” Elayne dared utter, entranced as she watched Merelda fill her bowl of soup with the product of her coupling. “What is she doing?”

“She hates blowjobs, so this is the next best way for her to survive her curse.” The man next to her explained, letting his hand rest on her back. “But women are like that, huh?” 

Elayne felt flush as she watched Merelda drink her soup down. Her throat rattled right along with the other woman’s as she watched her swallow. Merelda seemed to be equally flush, naked and thrilling as she drank gulp after gulp of soup. Elayne barely realized that the hand on her back had shifted to rest on her enormous ass, giving it a squeeze through the armor. “Excuse me!” She yelped.

“Ah, you want the professional tour. Just my luck.” The Nord grumbled, taking his hand off of her. “Come on then.” He seemed less excited as he led the way deeper into the Dwemer ruin, the walls looking to be in better and better condition. The last she saw of Merelda was some skimpy pieces of fur being drawn up her legs and torso, an empty soup bowl in her hands. “The Dragonborn came through here like a thunderstorm.” The Nord started saying, drawing her attention to scars on the walls of powerful magic. “The sound of his voice alone was enough to convince some of us not to fight. Everyone else was just thrown from the walls and killed without a second glance. So much power in one person, it was just too much.” He mused. “I just threw my weapon down and begged for mercy.”

“All with just his voice?”

“Gods.” The Nord whispered. “I don’t think a lass like you would understand. He just shouted once, and every archer on the wall fell into the courtyard. They were scattered upon the wind and only one even got up. The chief tried to take him, but he said something and the next moment the chief was short his head, and the Dragonborn demanded our surrender. We of course gave him what he wanted.”

“And then?”

“And then he told us to join him in his crusade against the dragons and all other evils of the world. I can still remember our charge against the Dwemer Centurion. The Dragonborn ran right into the steam, like it didn’t even exist. All the way down here.” Their steps were taking them through corridor after corridor of bronze and copper metal and worked stone, until they reached an area with barricades facing inwards. These were made from dwemer metal, and had torches blazing from all sides. “Ah, this is the gatehouse.” 

The buildings here were half-submerged in water, but the construction was immense. This must have been a city to these Dwemer. The final section was full of barricades and other well dressed bandits and mercenaries, all of whom gave them appraising looks. “What is this?”

“A device.” The Nord gave her shoulders a pat. “Told you that you look overdressed. They think you’re some kind of Thalmor prude or something.” 

“I am  _ not _ a Thalmor.” 

“Elven armor that covers that much skin? Liar.” The Nord countered. “I believe you aren’t a Thalmor. A prude, though? Absolutely.” He laughed. “So, this device can take someone all the way down from this gatehouse to Blackreach. It’s where the Falmer warlords and warbands are bred and created.”

Past the barricades was a large device, some kind of moving box. But there was a curious set of stairs to get there. “How do you get past all of this?”

“The Dragonborn was powerful enough that he went in alone, and came out four days later. Covered in blood and carrying three bags of gear the size of a man. Enough loot to retire with. But he charged us with keeping anything that came up that device dead. Once you open the skeever’s den, they will always look for a way out. And the Dragonborn doesn’t know how to turn off dwemer devices once he turns them on.”

“But how did he turn it on?”

“Lass you are asking a  _ lot _ of questions. My tongue is getting dry just thinking about it.” He grinned lavisciously. “Why don’t you give me a kiss and I’ll show you how.”

“I would never!” Elayne said hotly, stamping her foot. 

The Nord growled. “I am just trying to be nice to ye, lass! Now you are being rude!” He turned towards the exit. “This tour is over.”

She had to know how this worked! She was the Dragonborn, and this was a secret that she needed to know. “Wait!” She said, quietly. “Just one kiss?”

“After you’ve humiliated me in front of the other guards?” He hissed quietly, making her keenly aware of the five other men on the barricade watching them. “Beg me for a spanking, to apologize.”

Elayne felt a heady heat running through her body. She needed to know this secret. She needed to save the world. “I’m sorry.” She said clearly. “Please spank me.” She said awkwardly. 

“For my insolence.” The Nord whispered, giving a glance back at the other guards. 

“F-for my insolence.” She shakily repeated.

It was humiliating. She bent over in front of all of these people, and waited as this Nord laid his hand on her. Oh, he did. The sharp slaps made her entire ass ripple, the armor bending under his strikes. Or so it felt like. But it ended, thankfully before she started crying. Elayne was the Dragonborn! She wouldn’t cry over something like this. She couldn’t! It was just a spanking, after all. One spanking to save the world. Her ass radiated pain as she stood up, the Nord looking quite pleased with himself. “Now that we’ve properly apologized, I’ll tell you. The Dragonborn had a special sphere. Apparently it was some kind of attunement sphere or something or other. He plugged it into right here,” He led her using a hand on her hip over to a slim altar. “And now it’s on forever. Just in case we go on some kind of raid down there, we don’t break it. There are two other places like it, with the same devices.”

“I might need to visit those places.” She offered, holding herself together as her ass reminded her constantly of what just happened. 

“Alftand and Raldbthar are the other two places. Almost across the entirety of Skyrim, and past Eastmarch! They aren’t as well staffed, yet.” The Nord was just keeping his hand on her hip, making her skin itch. “Is there anything else you wanted to know?”

“Where did the Dragonborn go after coming here?”

“Oh!” He brightened, leading her back to the surface. “He was heading for an island in the north, past Dawnstar. Called Yngvild. Did a great service killing a necromancer up there.”

The Nord’s hand was on her hip the entire walk back to the surface. She was acutely aware of it, the warm moonstone of her armor seemingly reminding her frozen ass that it had been worked over. “Thank you for the tour.” She said, sliding out of his grasp as soon as they reached the outer doors. “Blessings of the Aedra upon you!”

“Don’t freeze out there!” The Nord cheerfully replied, waving as he went back inside the ruin. And leaving her in the frozen dusk and frigid wind. But it was better than the sights she saw inside of that place. Elayne bolted, snow being kicked up by her elven boots as she ran around a bend in the road. 

“This. This is madness! I’ve never heard of a curse like that!” She rubbed her ass, still radiating painfully. “He spanked me! Oh, I should have charmed him…” But why didn’t she? She had figured out how to get to this Blackreach place, which must be important somehow. And he went to Yngvild. Elayne reached into her pack, mostly to grab her map to find this place. But instead her fingers brushed a different item. It was the book that had started all of this. She pulled out Captured Dreams, seeing it still glowing. The page only had one letter glowing upon it, all others grayed out to the point they couldn’t be read. “This must be some mad illusion.” She murmured, pressing her thumb to the small  **P** rune. 

The world spun for a moment, coming back into focus a moment later. She was still outside of Mzinchaleft, and it was still frigid cold. The sun was going down, and she could hear yelling from the old ruin. 

“She killed the mage! Find her! I want her skinned alive for this!” The orc chieftain was bellowing. “Find that Synod mage!”

Her neck itched, feeling heavier than usual. Running a hand up to it, her fingers ran into something. The crude iron was familiar, since she had been playing with this item the entire carriage ride to Morthal! Both hands looked for a way to get it off, but it was snug against her neck! “Oh no!” It was an unbroken piece of iron. “How?!” She could hear the bandits making louder and louder noises. They were going to find her, and in this snow she was going to leave footprints. “Waterwalking!” She cast, running across the top of the snow and leaving no trace. It appeared she had actually killed Maluril, but was the rest of that an illusion? Was that her imagination? Her extremely sore ass made the case that it was in fact real, but magic could be a very dangerous thing.

Running into the night, Elayne tried to ignore the iron circlet around her neck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Items Acquired:
> 
> Iron Collar (Simple)  
> Silver Ankle Cuffs


	3. Chapter 3: Dawn of Realization

It was almost dawn when she arrived at Dawnstar, exhausted and tired. It was only her second time in the town. It was frigid, with frozen winds whipping at her ankles and certainly close to frostbite for her toes and fingers. The inn was open, a young woman at the counter and dressed in a very low cut dress. “Welcome to the Windpeak Inn.” She said, tiredly. “Can I get you something?”

Elayne shivered, nodding as she approached. “A room, please? Some hot food?” A cloak was wrapped tightly around her body, both keeping out the cold and hiding the cruel piece of iron wrapped around her neck. “Maybe a bath?”

The woman laughed. “Baths are prepared after dinner every other day. Won’t have one until tomorrow for anyone.” She pulled out a key and a small plate of bread and cheese. “Don’t have hot food, either. But this all will be fifteen septims.”

Killing Maluril had provided her enough gold to at least have a room. But it certainly wasn’t enough for a long stay or a trip on one of the boats that passed through. “Thank you.” She shivered out. There was only a couple of drunks here this late at night, and they barely paid her any attention. 

“Come out and warm up once you’re settled. I’ll warm up a drink for you.” The woman offered. “My name is Karita.” She winked.

“Elayne.” She replied. The fire did look rather inviting, and her armor had ice on it in some places. The room was small, and once she took her pack off her shoulders the rest of her gear soon followed. The armor came off and she shivered in her thin underlayers. As much as she wanted to just curl up under the blanket and pass out, she was honestly too cold for that. She would need to go out into the room and warm herself by the fire. 

But Elayne had glaring questions before she committed to that. For one, the iron circlet around her throat was demanding investigation. It was close enough to her skin that any spell she would try to destroy it would only hurt her. And her skill with Destruction magic was honestly limited. She opened her bag, deciding to look again at the notes left by Maluril on this book. Sitting at the top of her gear was a new wooden box, with an odd symbol upon it. She didn't remember picking this up. It even looked like Dragon script. It didn’t have a lock or anything, and opened with a well-oiled swiftness. 

Inside the box were three items. The first was a mirror, the beaten silver polished to a fine enough sheen that she could see her hair in all of its disgusting mess. It also was detailed enough to let her see the iron circlet, an unbroken line of metal upon her pale skin. “It looks like a collar.” She whispered. Also in the box was a pair of silver bands. Perhaps they were moonstone. But they too were unbroken and shaped oddly. Not quite a perfect circle, one side was bent outwards further. Both were wider than her wrists. 

Setting those down, she took out the final item. It looked like some kind of weapon, except that it ended in a leather square. The handle had a long swishy foot long haft that ended in the leather square. She swung it against her armor, sitting on the bed next to her. There was an almighty  _ slap _ as it connected, sounding exactly like a hand spanking her ass. She blushed, her ass still throbbing from her spanking at the hands of that Nord bandit. 

“Are you alright?” Karita called through the door. “Is everything ok?”

Elayne scrambled to hide these items inside her pack. “Everything is fine! I'll be out in a minute!” In her haste, she instead upended her backpack all over the floor, Captured Dreams falling open upon the bed. It was already glowing, but this time seemed easier to make out the letters. She couldn't help herself but to read it. “Still water full reflection.” She spoke, realizing only after the world darkened around her that she had activated the book once more. The world twisted, her skirt fluttering as the room shifted. Her things were instantly organized and put away. The only thing on her bed was the book, a single letter pulsating wildly. 

Pressing her thumb to that letter would end the spell effect, if she remembered correctly. Before she could consider doing so, Karita opened the door. But the tavern wench from before had been replaced in this world of the book. Her previous dress had been showing cleavage in an barely acceptable way and many small bracelets and jewelry bits had been upon her arms. This new Karita was dressed even more scandalously, with a skirt shaped more like a thick belt, and cross crossing straps of leather covering her torso. It all came together into a thick collar at the girl’s neck. That was the only thing it could be. Thick leather wrapped around a metal band, a large ring in the center hanging down to almost her collarbone. 

“I thought I heard something.” Karita whispered. “Did your grandmother let you borrow her dress?”

“This is my dress, thank you very much!” Elayne huffed. “I didn't need your help!”

Karita approached, unwanted but in this small room she was at her side in two steps. “That dress was made for someone with saggy tits and wider shoulders. Come to my room, I've got something sized for you.” The woman smirked. “Unless you want to be laughed at when you warm up by the fire.”

Karita swirled away, out of the room. Elayne stood, looking at the open book and shivering from being cold. “Last time I learned about the Dragonborn. And a battle that Tulius lost here at Dawnstar. So it might be different here.” A part of her wanted to just press the rune in the book and return, calling this crazy. But a second part of her, a louder part screamed that secrets found here could only help her.

She left the book on the bed, open and waiting just in case she needed to run back to it. The inn was almost the same as she saw earlier, with a pair of men drinking in one corner. Across the hall Karita was waiting with her collar and outfit at a doorway. Elayne used a tiny invisibility spell to dash across the room, pushing into Karita’s tiny bedroom. “Hi.” She whispered. “Didn't want to be seen.”

“I wouldn't want to be, either.” Karita nodded. “Take it off, I'll get you the dress. I'm a tailor part of the time. I just know it'll fit you.” She shut the door for privacy. 

Elayne shivered, pulling the larger dress over her head. In just her small clothes she could see how pale and cold her extremities were. “What does that collar mean?” She dared to ask. 

“Same as yours, I would imagine,” Karita forced a bundle of colorful blue fabric over her head. “Keeps you from being taken by someone else.” The skirts were tight on her ass, but somehow it fit her torso. It felt thin, too thin for a dress. The fabric wasn’t transparent or anything, but running her hands over it made her fairly self conscious. The dress wrapped around her neck twice before covering only the front of her torso with swathes of blue linen. It fit her waist, ending in a skirt that tickled her lower thighs. As she felt herself down, her breastband was pulled off of her by Karita. “Don’t need this with those small things.”

“But wait!” Elayne tried to say, feeling self conscious of her barely there breasts. The dress was backless. There was nothing covering her entire back, from her low skirt to the iron collar and blue fabric wrapped around her neck. 

“Come on. I can’t be gone too long.” Karita winked, holding the door open. 

Elayne shivered. Though her cheeks felt warm she still felt cold. No matter what she needed to go by the fire. “Fine.” She whispered. More to herself than to the other woman. “Do you know anything about the Dragonborn?”

“I’m a tavern bard.” Karita laughed. “Sit down here on the bench and I’ll tell you all about him.” Entirely conscious of the two drunks in the corner, Elayne moved in the thin linen dress and sat next to the cookfire. It was divine, and the thin layers of dress were letting all of the heat through. 

“I heard he came through here to travel to Yngvild.” 

“That’s not a common story to hear someone ask about.” Karita sat next to her, laying her head on Elayne’s shoulder. “There was a necromancer on that island. He liked to kill women, and the Dragonborn found out that he was going to perform some kind of ritual. A boat crashed against its shore and the crew made it back to Dawnstar with enough time to warn him. So he went up to that island with his slave mage Serana to stop him. He came back a few days later, with all kinds of books and knowledge from that place. Oh, and his slave mage got punished.” She laughed, giving Elayne a hug. She could already feel warmth returning to her. 

The skin contact was helping warm her. Only when she felt warm hands running up and down her bare sides did she consider this to be slightly embarrassing. Women could hug, of course. She felt flush as Karita’s left hand moved inside her dress, grasping her by the frozen stomach. “Punished? Why?”

“It was in front of the entire inn.” Karita said wistfully. “Spanked her until she was begging for something to quell the burn.”

Elayne blushed, all too easily reminded of her own spanking earlier. “What did she do?”

“Who can say? She isn’t the type to get into trouble. It must have been serious enough for her to get punished. The Dragonborn is usually quite kind to her. Or at least that is what I hear.”

“Did he tell you about this?”

“He did not. But other bards did learn about it. He’s careful to tell us all about his journeys, and we bards share the tales and write them down.” 

“They’re written down!” Elayne felt giddy, jumping slightly at the feeling of something cradling her breast. But moving just made the feeling get worse, until she looked down to see. Coming through both sides of the backless dress, Karita’s hands were cradling her like no man or woman ever had. She looked up in horror, but thankfully the drunks were not paying her any attention. 

“The Bard’s College in Solitude has them. And of course the Dragonborn himself has copies. But I can tell you all of them, right here.”

Elayne could feel feelings building deep in her body. Right at her very core. She was being groped and fondled in broad daylight by another woman! “How did he defeat Alduin?” She whispered, compromising with herself. A bit of a grope was worth an answer to her quest.

“That’s a  _ long _ story.” Katira warned, tweaking Elayne’s nipples. “Are you sure you want to hear it?”

She barely muffled a scream. “Let go of me!”

“Not too proud of those, huh?” Katira could fit all of her into both hands with room to spare. “You can get that fixed, you know?”

“...” Elayne quivered. “How?” The Mages college didn’t have any spells for that! She had checked! Colette promised there were none!

“Am I telling you about the Dragonborn or telling you something else?” Her fingers were circling, and Elayne squirmed. 

She gripped the bench, feeling heat from the fire and other things flooding her body. But she maintained her resolve. “How did he defeat Alduin?” It was more important than her breasts. Even though her fingers felt amazing. “I have to know.”

“The Dragonborn fought the world eater three times. The first time, it was upon the Throat of the world, and involved some very special help from his friends.” The circling fingers were making her feel light headed, though something told her to let those hands keep going. “From the Greybeards, he learned words of great power. The Dragon Tongue was learned faster than any had before him, save Talos himself.”

Elayne quivered under the skilled hands, the backless dress providing no cover for her as the sun started rising through the windows. “Who else?” She whispered, trying to keep her focus.

“From the Blades and the Thalmor, the Dragonborn received scrolls to summon heroes from history, to fight at his side. A blade forged by the blades but improved by elven tempering and magic created a weapon only known as Dragonbane. It or a daedric artifact were the only weapons that could even damage the skin of the beast. Being Aedra in nature, it despised the Daedric Artifacts. Two were shattered by Alduin, scattered across the mountaintop. With two of his three artifact weapons destroyed, the Dragonborn,” Elayne shuddered heavily, feeling Katira kissing her way down her back. “He used a single shout to bring Alduin down to the world. Half dead and nearly broken, both fighters separated. Alduin retreated to the East, and the Dragonborn went home to Whiterun to soothe his burns and wounds.”

“What shout was it?” Elayne barely was able to make her tongue work, she felt hot all over. Even her ass was finally unfrozen, stinging from its earlier spanking. 

“Hang on, more customers coming in.” Elayne blinked, seeing that the empty inn was filling up. Men and women were stepping into the inn, looking for food and drink. Elayne’s nipples were tenting the fabric of the dress, and her smalls were soaked. Karita was over at a table, seemingly taking orders. 

Her head swam, and she didn’t know what would happen if she stayed here. People were staring at her in a way that made her feel exposed. She might end up like Merelda the cursed bandit at this rate. The thought of more of this embarrassing experience was too much! Everyone could see this  _ collar _ on her neck! Her fear rose, and she ran back to her bedroom before the outer doors could open again. Slamming the door shut, she ran over to Captured Dreams. The book was still open on her bed, with one glowing  **P** rune at the center of the page. She pressed it with her thumb, acutely aware of every inch of exposed skin. 

The world slammed back into focus, Elayne returning to what she had to assume was her normal world. Her room was a mess once again, all of her things spilled out over the bed. As well as the book. Growling, she grabbed a spare breastband and tied it around the book. But as she did so, she could feel cold air running over her back. “Oh no.”

Her dress didn’t turn back. It was still the backless number with the short skirt. “The items in that world, they are real?” She ran her fingers through the linen fabric. They eventually ran into the iron collar around her neck, making her feel the reality of the unbroken metal there. “The things I take from that illusion are real.” She murmured, her fingers running across the surface of the ring at the front of the collar. “Which means this isn’t an illusion. And that world already has a Dragonborn.”

She sat on the bed, sighing. Her nipples still tingled from Karita’s fingers. Feeling ashamed, she drew the dress down her body and found a shirt to pull over her head. That was when she found something new. Clamped onto her ankles were the silver bands. Just as unbroken as the collar around her neck. “Gods…” She whimpered, touching the metal. “The price!”

The price of using the book appeared each time! First she got the collar, and then she got these anklets! They were heavy, the silver very thick. “Wait, what now?” Elayne seached, finding immediately what was new in her bag. It was a gem, possibly a soul gem. But at the top of the gem was a small silver ring, punched through the crystal without breaking it. “Huh.” Elayne murmured. “This is my next price of knowledge.”

She placed that into her bag, and shoved Captured Dreams deep inside the backpack. There was no way she was using that again for a while. Not until she knew more. This blue linen dress she got was also shoved inside, feeling too embarrassed to even consider wearing that again. So, heated in more ways than one, Elayne tried to get some sleep. But the collar around her neck made that very difficult indeed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ITEMS ACQUIRED:  
> Iron Collar (Simple)  
> Silver Ankle Cuffs  
> Unknown Piercing w/ Soul Gem


	4. Chapter 4: Ghostly Future

Elayne was making good time around the coast of the Sea of Ghosts. A thick cloak was well secured around her neck, and her elven armor was able to slide over the silver ankle cuffs that still eluded her ability to remove. It bunched around her ankles, but her boots and armor were alright. The wind coming off the ocean carried with it frigid air, passing in through the gaps in her armor was cold, but before leaving Dawnstar she had purchased some long term potions of frost resistance. It was keeping her warm, since today she was going into that sea. 

She was getting tired a bit faster than normal, thanks to the anklets. But other than Horkers this coastline was peaceful. “Look for the Nordic ruins.” That’s what the guards told her. “That’s the right island.” Apparently women had been abducted from Dawnstar and other places in the last three years, and the one responsible was in Yngvild. Across the sea, she could see it. Ruins rose from the mist around one of the islands. “I can water walk that…” Elayne grinned. 

The waves were small, and her elven boots slapped the water as she ran across the water. Laughing, she ran around a frozen tree trunk and came to a sliding stop on the black gravel of the island. Rising far above the ground below, this island had a veritable mountain. Elayne managed to get up to the upper part of the island but the sun was already going down. There was no other places to rest in this place. 

Yngvild as a ruin held nothing she could make use of, other than a cave. Drawing her weapon, she started walking in. Immediately, she could hear the approaching footsteps of Draugr. The undead would rise to defend their havens, and she went charging right in. Their archers hurt, after all!

Both Draugr went down, the ancient undead hitting the dirt and dust after a few strikes. But what came next was different. A ghost came from the interior tunnel, its incorporeal form holding spells in both hands. Frost washed over her, causing teeth to shiver and bones to ache. Elayne yelled a warcry, swinging her sword with all her might. To her horror, the weapon just passed right through the ghost. It barely seemed to affect it! She had an orcish sword, but it didn’t seem to do anything. Her steel dagger was at least enchanted, so with haste she sheathed her sword and drew the tiny dagger. 

It cut through the ghost’s body, making it freeze up with it’s paralyzing ability. But it wasn’t injured either. Biting her lip, she considered using her mana to destroy the ghost with her destruction spells. But she might run out of mana long before she was able to do anything of value here. Rather than put herself at risk, she ran out of the cave and used what little magic she had for an invisibility spell. 

The ghost came charging out after her, bringing two more incorporeal friends with it. Elayne couldn’t kill all three! Taking cover behind a pillar, she could see more of these ghosts coming out from the cave. She was the Dragonborn, though. She was here for justice. And the  _ other _ Dragonborn she heard about in the other world had gone through this place without any trouble. So, she could at least try. So she lined up and gave it her best shot. 

“ **Yol!** ” The wave of fire caught half of the ghosts, purging them from existence. But the other half started to chase her, forcing her to scream once more. Fire poured across the landscape, and their spells chilled her even further. One final gasping breath of fire was finally necessary to put down the last ghost, and Elayne slumped to her knees, her throat rattling from coughing. Forcing the Voice was a good way of becoming a mute, Arngeir had told her. She was starting to believe him. “Six ghosts!” She rasped. “Goodness.” 

She didn’t even have time to check the remains before another pair of ghosts emerged from the tunnel. Too frozen to run from all the frost spells, Elayne shivered. A Draugr followed them, confirming that this was a terrible idea. The other Dragonborn defeated this with ease! Why couldn’t she! Groaning, she watched as the ghosts began their slow approach. One of her hands brushed the iron circlet around her neck, the frigid metal a shocking realization to her. 

If the other Dragonborn had already defeated this necromancer, she could just go there and see! Her hands moved quickly, drawing Captured Dreams out of her bag. The breastband she had wrapped it in was cast aside, and she threw the book open to read it. The Draugr was already charging. “Deserved Traits,” She shivered, glancing up as she twisted the book around to complete the sentence. “For blurred Experiences!” The Draugr’s blade was mere feet away when the world swirled into darkness, the light clearing and leaving her in a snowdrift with no draugr in her face. The island looked empty, with no signs of conflict. No melted patches of snow, or marks of her Shout. 

“Oh-h…” She was still frozen. Shivering, she stumbled her way into the cavern. “T-this better work.” The cold ruins had none of the sounds of rising draugr this time, but Elayne kept her blade out. Old draugr corpses were in some of the hallways, and her boots echoed alone in the massive ruin. Braziers were in some of the areas, but the only place with fuel for it was in a throne room in the deepest levels. 

It was there she found evidence of the other Dragonborn’s handiwork. A massive burn scar was along the far wall, in a shape she knew was from a dragon Shout. At the base of the scar was a burnt corpse, permanently frozen. The elven ears were a sight, but the necromancer robes were a dead giveaway. His shout alone seemed to be enough to kill him. Standing back near the entrance of the room, Elayne took a position. “ **Yol! Toor!** ” It had been at least a half hour since she had used her Shouts, and her throat had recovered. 

Her own shout tore across the space, striking the walls and area in the same angle as the other Dragonborn’s Shout. Ash and wood lit, and the brazier in the room ignited at the edge of her range. “Oh, good choice!” She smiled. But she was smiling because her Shouting was equal in power. If she put her all into it, she could kill the Necromancer just like what happened in this world. And now she could get warm!

Only one chamber remained at the very end, where she could see a ruined bed, along with a chest and small table. But this world seemed to treat bedrooms differently. There was a piece of furniture she wasn’t used to, some kind of stand with clamps to hold someone’s arms tight and extended. The chair was similarly odd, with some kind of knob in the center of the chair. How anyone could sit in such a thing she didn’t know. But now she realized that she could use this information to trace the footsteps of the other Dragonborn. While she got warm, she did a small search of the area. Any item that held any value seemed to be stripped from the place, even down to the last offerings placed on the Draugr’s corpses. 

But Elayne did notice something glittering near the roof of the room. Up high, in one of the columns. “No need to climb up there”, she smirked. “Come down!” With a bit of telekinesis, the object came loose, floating back into her hands. It looked like a mass of almost-metal straps all around a hollow sphere. Tapping it with the hilt of her steel dagger, she could hear the distinct sound of ebony. What exactly are you…” She wondered, seeing that it was even enchanted. It looked cruel, the straps meant to wrap around something and latch together from three directions. But most curious of all was a small engraving on the sphere. “Serana’s Bitch Tamer.” She read. 

This belonged to the other Dragonborn’s slave! Serana! Four large holes were in the sphere, and Elayne finally realized what this was. The sphere would be forced into someone’s mouth. The holes seemed to line up with someone’s teeth! She shuddered once, sliding that object into her pack and resolving to not think about it for a while. The straps were made of something that could barely bend, at least to her. It wasn’t worth playing with. Perhaps this was why Katira had said that Serana got punished at Windpeak Inn. 

Finally warm, she started planning out something creative! If she could use the book to step between this world and her own, she could appear behind the defenses of the necromancer! And once he was down, all of the ghosts and Draugr should go away too! She could jump for joy at the thought. But using the book to go back would exact a price from her. Digging into her pack, she held up the tiny little soul gem and its silver ring. “Every time I go back and forth, something is attached to me. This time I’ll at least know what is coming. I accept the price for using Captured Dreams.” She murmured, holding the item tightly in her hand. Not like anyone could hear her, but she considered a little soul gem earring to be worth an ambush against this necromancer. 

So she took cover behind his massive throne, and cast Invisibility. Then, she brought out the mentioned tome and opened it. The glowing rune was waiting for her to press it. “Alright. Just press the rune and kill the necromancer. Like the other Dragonborn did. If he survives, I can just use the same method.” She rubbed her hands together, satisfied with her plan. “Alright, I’ll take an earring for this.”

This time, Elayne was ready as she pressed the symbol. The world flashed with light, and she remained as still as she could behind the throne. The sounds of the area changed, going from silent tomb to something else. Steps could be heard, and just inches from her she could hear someone clearing their throat. 

“What was that?” The voice was arrogant, almost creepy. “Did one of you pets just cast a new spell? What an accomplishment that would be, to see what you can accomplish in death what you never could in life.” 

He was right there. For a moment, Elayne considered if she should just knock him out. But past the throne, she could see two of the ghosts still here. Necromancy was dark and soul-rending. So, she exhaled and stabbed. Her dagger went into the mage once, twice, and a third time before she was sure she got him. Leaning around the throne, she watched as all of the ghosts and a single draugr collapsed. Since someone had been living here this time, it was in much better condition than in the other world. 

“Thank you.” One of the ghosts whispered, before dissipating. Elayne cheered, running around the throne. 

“I did it!” She cheered. “I got him!” Unlike the other Dragonborn, there was no burnt body smell to follow the kill. “That was worth an earring!” Running a hand up her face, she couldn’t feel anything in her earlobes. “Um, what.” 

The bedroom was not quite as empty as she remembered. The bed was in one piece, and the braziers were lit. And the chair didn’t have the odd shape in the center. But Elayne could secure the door and lock it. Off came her armor, and she finally could see where the little soul gem went. “Oh my Gods!” She shrieked, looking past her miniscule breasts to her navel. And especially the gem that hung from it, the slim silver ring breaking through her skin. Hesitantly, she gave it a small tug. “Ouch!” It was definitely attached. The ring had pierced her navel, and that scared the crap out of her!

Worried, she looked in her pack and saw something new. It was a headband, something that looked at least normal. “I fell into that line of thinking with the soul gem.” She murmured, looking closely at it. The ends of the headband were longer than normal, coming to long spindly tips. One of her last breastbands wrapped around that, and Elayne set that next to the gigantic item that belonged to this Serana woman. “Bitch Tamer.” She lifted that up, pulling the sphere up to her mouth. The sphere was so large she didn’t think she could get her mouth over it. Blushing, she set that back into the bag and took out her tattered journal. “The other Dragonborn. He fought someone named Harkon. And Miraak.” Those names were placed on an empty page. 

Her collar felt heavier than normal, now that more than just items were appearing on her. Now she had to worry about things going under her skin. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ITEMS ACQUIRED:  
> Iron Collar (Simple)  
> Silver Ankle Cuffs  
> Navel Piercing  
> UNKNOWN HEADBAND  
> Serana's Bitch Tamer


	5. Chapter 5: Tongues and Torture

Elayne arrived in Solitude by carriage, safe and sound. No one attacked her on the trip, and her thick winter clothing was keeping the collar around her neck safely hidden. Buried at the bottom of her pack was the tome that kept causing her concern.  _ Captured Dreams _ had been an enigma to her. The book could transport her to another world, but it looked like the only one aware of the different world was her. Maluril’s journal was full of ramblings that didn’t seem to associate with it. Nothing more could be learned from thumbing through it on the carriage ride. The gigantic walls and architecture of Solitude was nothing on Wayrest, but it did look imposing. 

Drinking a potion of frost resistance, she made her way up the long road and into the city proper. Wearing her armor in a place like this drew glances, but she preferred that over possibly showing her collar. Tall buildings rose on all sides, and she appreciated the marketplace heavily. She sold all of the items she had spare, getting up to more than four hundred septims in her pocket. Whistling, she jogged past Radiant Raiment and up the streets, heading for one of the few places in this province that might be able to tell her more about her problems. 

It was with a giddy glee that she knocked on the door to the Bard’s College. It was full of life and music, carrying through the door. An older Breton opened the door, giving her a smile. “Greetings!” He called cheerfully over the music of the college. 

“Sorry for the bother,” Elayne spoke up. “I was wondering if I could get a few minutes of your time?”

“Of course! Only so many times I can hear Jorn beat a drum incorrectly.” He laughed. “Come in!”

The cacophony was less, somehow once she got inside to the small library. “Welcome to the main floor library. I’m the dean of history, Giraud Germane.”

“Elayne. Adventurer with a riddle.” She introduced herself. 

“Alright,” The old man’s eyes sparkled. “What’s your riddle? A bard can always appreciate a challenge!”

“I’ve come into possession of a clue. Some kind of book of secrets. Ever heard of a book called  _ Captured Dreams _ ?”

The old man seemed to close his eyes. “I know the name.” He took a seat in an old worn chair. “That is a dark book.”

“Why do you say that?”

“It’s one of the black books of the daedric prince of knowledge. I’ve only read about them, but most were in Solstheim.” Germane spoke up. “Those that read such things pay a heavy price for it. Though what little I’ve read about them suggests they are mostly empty; full of half-truths or broken statements.” He seemed to think about it, wincing as a sound carried through the stairs. “Jorn is going to make a name for himself at this rate.” 

“There are others like it?”

“Untold Legends. The Hidden Twilight.” His voice wavered. “Someone came asking about them in the last decade.”

“Just one person?”

“Not many ask about Daedric books. But there was a Telvanni mage that came in here asking about them. We had to dig up some of the oldest scrolls in the basement to find what we knew about it. One of the most interesting conversations of my career.” He said wistfully. “I got to spend two hours talking with someone who had been alive during the Oblivion Crisis.”

“Thank you.” Elayne whispered. “Do you keep anything on the Dragonborn?”

The old man laughed. “Any books we had on them have mysteriously vanished the moment their popularity became real. I should have just locked up those books in my personal safe the moment word got out.” 

Elayne’s heart raced. The other world would have what she needed. This place was one of the only places that held the secrets she needed. “I would imagine you have quite the view from your chambers.”

“Bah!” He scoffed. “I have a view of the river. Viarmo has the view of the Blue Palace.” She had a room, now. She knew where someone would keep the important books. And if she could get her hands on them, she would have a detailed list of all the ways the Dragonborn in the other world had accomplished his deeds! Sure, bards had a way of embellishing things but some of it had to be real!

“Do you mind if I could read one of the books here? It’s so hard to find complete collections.” 

“An adventurer that has the patience to read? Be my guest.” The older man chuckled. “I’m going to see about Jorn’s clumsy hands.”

She was left mostly alone, behind the bookshelves. It was enough. She had never considered stealing before. Didn’t think it was necessary when you were a hero. “But it isn’t stealing if it’s from another world.” She whispered to herself. “I just need to slip upstairs, find out what the Dragonborn did, and return. No one the wiser, and the book in my hand.”

She nodded to herself, and opened her bag. Very little was in it, at the moment. A key pouch, a silver mirror, three spare dresses, a couple of books and journals. At the very bottom were three packages she desperately kept low. The first was a gift from her Great Aunt. A set of Forsworn armor sized for her. She had put it on only once, and the thought still had her feeling ashamed. Her gigantic ass made it look absolutely trashy. The second item was a blue linen dress she had gained from Dawnstar. Except that it was the other world’s Dawnstar. It too was completely humiliating to wear. She would have gotten rid of it, but didn’t want to invite questions. The last item was a wrapped book. She dragged it out, pulling it open as she went. The breastband wrapped around it was undone, and soon enough she was staring at a handful of broken runes. 

“Intelligence is avarice,” She read, spinning the book first one way and then another. “Cowardice it's Mistress.” With the words read, the world darkened for a moment. When the light returned, she knew she was in the other world. Where else would you find a pair of panties thrown over a pile of books?

This Bard college was very different. Some of the tables had been cleared from the front of the room, to put in a small platform. It was a wooden beam with three holes in it. A small book stand lay in front of it, and a Redguard was currently occupying the holes. Her hands were in either side hole, with her head coming through the middle. It was barbaric, and she immediately blushed at the bare state of her arms and legs. She was naked on that platform! 

Elayne dove behind the bookshelf, shutting  _ Captured Dreams _ with finality. None of the book titles here had changed. None of the books on the Dragonborn were here. In the distance another woman walked by, making Elayne goggle at her appearance. For she only was wearing long gloves and some kind of thigh high boots! The distinct tapping of metal on stone echoed from her, in a way that she had never heard before. Those long boots of hers had spikes that lifted her heel off the floor, and every time those touched the stone it made loud noises that carried through the college. 

Taking a deep breath, she cast her invisibility spell. The loud sounds of the other woman’s shoes were going upstairs, and so she followed. Not too closely, but a flight of stairs behind her. The upstairs rooms were many and varied, but only one was facing the river. Elayne trotted over, pulling the door open and slipping inside. The room was lavish, the walls adorned with pictures and trophies of the past. She almost gasped, barely noticing the room’s only occupant. At the foot of the bed was a Dunmer, wearing a thick collar. While her own was a simple iron ring, this was a large steel assembly with multiple latches. She was literally chained to the bed. It was utterly barbaric! For a moment, she imagined it was herself chained to the foot of someone’s bed, utterly naked. A rush of heat ran from the crown of her head all the way to her toes. 

It took great effort to peel her eyes away from the woman. There had to be a secure chest somewhere in this room. Unfortunately, it was right next to the naked Dunmer. Kneeling down, Elayne could smell the scent of sex heavy in the air. Her lockpick set came out and her fingers plied the tumblers, her invisibility spell fading. She came into full visibility above the other woman, blushing madly. But the chest opened, and she finally had access!

Inside were books of rare varieties, along with gold and gems. A heavy necklace was also in the chest, enchanted. Elayne wasn’t much of a thief. All she wanted were the books on the Dragonborn! Thankfully Germane kept his books in alphabetical order in here, letting her instantly find the set she was looking for:  _ Dragonborn Tales vol. 1, 2, and 3. _ Each was full of the information she needed to defeat Alduin, she was certain of it!

As she was pulling the books out of the chest, she glanced over at the Dunmer. She was awake, and staring right back at her with wide eyes. Elayne felt horrified. She had never committed a crime before. Never stolen anything like this, at least! “Please don’t say anything.” She whispered. “I’m just borrowing these books.”

“I’m the apprentice bard here!” The Dunmer yelled loudly. “Cheaters never prosper!” She drew her hand back to cast a spell, and Elayne swung her paralyzing steel dagger at her. But she wasn’t quite fast enough, a bolt of lightning washing over her and stinging greatly. While the Dunmer was paralyzed, Elayne bounded past her and into the hall. She ran into someone in the hallway, knocking them both over. 

“Sorry!” Elayne whispered hotly, seeing that she ran into the woman only wearing the gloves and boots. “Excuse me!” It felt like the entire Bard’s College had taken notice of her, and she ran for the first floor. Past the woman in stocks, and feeling ashamed at her very first theft of stealing. But she got the books! She had the knowledge!

_ Captured Dreams _ was opened immediately, and she pressed the rune to go back to her own world. The swirls of color she was starting to get used to, as she came back to her feet on the other side. There was a crash as her helmet hit the floor, and Elayne dove for it and just threw it into her bag. There were no sounds of alarm, or panic. Just music carrying through the air. And a distinct lack of naked women walking around.

“I paid the price.” She murmured, running her hands across her newest adornment. Some kind of silver headband with a moonstone in it was upon her brow. It didn’t move to come off her face at all. Taking a shaky breath, she noticed her magic coming back quickly. It must be the headband! Nothing else she had would offer such an enchantment. “Huh. Not all that bad.” This time the price had been rather tame.

But the tome wasn’t done taunting her yet today. Sitting atop all of her other things were a pair of soul gems with large silver rings at their ends. The same shape and style as the piercing in her navel. These would be the next haunting price for using the tome. That alone terrified her, and she wrapped the book and knotted the breastband doubly around it. But inside her bag were the three large books she had just stolen. They made this entire trip worth it. Settling into the reading chair, Elayne licked her lips and started reading. The book was well designed, with thick pages and wide bindings. The first page was… empty. So was the second, and the third. Mounting dread filled her being, as she watched words appear on the page she was on. 

**Cheaters never prosper. Walk before you run, Champion.** Hermaeus Mora was mocking her for trying to learn all that she needed from just a book. She huffed, shutting the book and shoving it into her bag. What a disaster. She pulled out her helmet, pushed off her head by the headband’s appearance. It couldn’t fit back upon her head, much to Elayne’s deep annoyance. The headband was too large to allow it. “But I paid the price!”

Her whispers carried throughout the room, getting the attention of someone. “Is someone here?” A feminine voice called. 

“Just me,” Elayne replied cheerfully. “Just a visiting adventurer.”

“Ah.” Coming around the bookshelf was a nord woman wearing a farmer’s dress and durable shoes. But she had seen her before, in the other world. She was the one who only wore gloves and thigh high boots, and Elayne blushed at the knowledge of just what was under that dress. “Welcome to the Bard’s College. I’m Illdi. Can I get you anything?”

“No, no.” Elayne said, breaking eye contact. “I was just leaving. Your Dean of History was very kind and helpful to me.” She stood, getting up and slinging her pack back on. Illdi thankfully left her alone, and there was no one between her and the door. Why she should be worried, she didn’t know. But it still felt like she had committed a crime here. Elayne looked around the building, ready to bolt at the slightest noise. As she stood up, the way to the door was clear. Stepping forwards, a loud clicking echoed throughout the building. She froze, already hearing people taking notice. With rising horror, she realized that sound came from her. "Oh shite." She whispered. Things were getting worse!

Her shoes! _Captured Dreams_ had done something to her armored boots! Her heels were raised up off the ground, thin spikes of moonstone coming off the bottom of the heels of her boots.  Her ankles shook, and Elayne had to hold onto the sides of the hallway as she stumbled to the exit. Loud clacks and clicks echoed across the stones, Elayne giving a yelp as she barely maintained her balance. 

There was one spell she knew from her time with the Graybeards, to help with sneaking through scary places. With a few spoken words she cast Muffle, sighing in relief when her feet were no longer creating their own percussion band. The streets were full of people, it being a busy day. Looking around with some concern, she could see a small area with benches on the other side of the college. Wobbling, Elayne trotted to one of those benches and sank onto them. Her enormous ass acted as a good pillow, and she took the weight off her feet. 

Her armor’s boots looked far different now. Her fitted boots was more sleek, hugging her calves all the more tightly. And then there was the bottom. The toes were brought to a point, hard leather and moonstone pushing her toes forwards. The arch of the foot was exaggerated, pulling her heel inches from the ground, and only supporting it via a spike. “These are insane!” She whispered, glancing around the empty courtyard. “These are armor?”

She had a spare set of boots from her Forsworn armor in her bag, bone and leather wrappings for the feet. Opening it, she could see that said boots were no longer with her gear. The only shoes she now had were these heeled elven armored boots. “I’m in too deep now.” She murmured. “I shouldn’t have just tried to steal a book. The Daedra obviously think I need to learn something from people, and not from books.” How rude! Forcing her to be social.

She didn’t feel like going back to High Hrothgar for anything, after spending more than a month straight there. Arngeir and the other Graybeards only shared things with her after proving she was the Dragonborn, never speaking to anyone else. Wracking her brain, Elayne went through the list of anyone else who might help her. Or might help her in the future. Delphine and Esbern would help her, they were Blades. Their order was dedicated to fighting dragons. But they were also paranoid, and in the other world might treat her less kindly. 

She needed something or someone that would be happy to share the Dragonborn’s secrets. The only places Elayne considered friendly these days were Whiterun, Morthal and Falkreath. Morthal because it consistently had the alchemical ingredients she supplied to her great aunt. Falkreath because it also had ingredients that she liked to collect, though she mostly liked the people there. It was a village, and almost everyone was easy to like. Then there was Whiterun. Glaring at her new footwear, she had every reason to like Whiterun. They made her a thane, after all!

“Am I willing to spend gold on new boots?” She asked herself. “Women in the other world can walk on these things.”

Whiterun was complicated. Only one person knew what she looked like there. Everyone else just knew her as the masked hero, and didn’t ask questions. Putting her pack down, she gave a new glance at these spindly pieces of moonstone. “You can do it, come on.” She whispered to herself. Standing, she could feel her leg muscles stretch differently than in normal boots. Was it better to put weight on the toes or the heel first? Stumbling, she had to catch herself on the bench. Definitely not the toes. 

In the Bard’s College courtyard she did a few laps of the interior walls, learning just how to walk in these things. She developed a distinct step with them, placing the spike of the heel down first and then throwing her weight onto her toes enough to swing the next foot into place. But the spike was so thin that if she slipped between the flagstones of particularly thick rocks she could twist her ankle. The clicks of the heels became less frightening as she went. It must have been two hours she spent there, practicing how to walk in these boots. Her ankles reminded her all too often of the cuffs attached to them, and her ass felt different from her change in stride. 

“Okay, fine.” She told herself. “I don’t want to waste gold on new boots.”

Elayne still cast a Muffle spell on her feet as she walked back through the city, towards the main gate. She needed to get out of here. The carriage to Whiterun left tomorrow, while the one to Falkreath left the day after. 

“At least I have a home there.” Breezehome was in Whiterun. But it was also where Lydia was. Stupid pretty Lydia. She tried to go out without her mask on once in Whiterun. Lydia got all of the attention with her natural charms and height. The worst part was that she wasn’t even trying. It vexed her so much she told Lydia to stay in Breezehome and she hadn’t seen her in almost two months. “A meal is going to cost me gold,” She considered. “One night at the inn will take probably twenty septims.”

“Thirty.” Someone spoke up right next to her. It was Sorex, one of the men who worked at the inn. “Only one room left, now. Some delegation is coming to see Elisef and we only have one room left.” She must have been talking too loudly by the gate. “The name is Sorex Vinius.”

She had been introduced to him before! Was she so easy to forget? “Elayne.”

“Not often I see strange things like you walking around. Elven Armor is rare to see these days. And the hair!” He chuckled. “You must be one of those mages from Winterhold.” Elayne shuddered. Her hair was the color of dirt and barely noticeable. 

“I might be, yes. Can I take that room?”

Her head was covered by a hood, out of concern. Corex charged twenty for her room and eight for her meal. She gave the respect he deserved, before shutting the door and sitting on the bed. Her arches ached from her new boots, but that wasn’t the priority in sitting down. Inside her pack there was a mirror. It was another one of those gifts from using  _ Captured Dreams _ . Drawing it out, she held it aloft so she could see her face. The headband was larger than normal, hugging her forehead and standing tall upon her brow. But behind it, she could see her hair. It was no longer the dirty brown that she was used to. 

It was some kind of darker color. Casting a candlelight spell, she put it right up next to her ear. Squinting against the glare of the light source, she could see that the headband was making her hair different. The strands were turning an unnatural bluish color. “Blue?!” She squealed. “How is my hair blue?!” 

It was also slightly longer. Some of it was still dirt brown, but she could see the color slowly shifting before her very eyes. Then it stopped. Right about the moment her mana had come back to full. “It’s restoring my mana.” That was what was causing her hair to change color. Soon enough all of her hair would be an unnatural color that no one else could possibly have. Unless she stopped using magic, of course. But that would be crippling.

The collar underneath her armor reminded her of the futility of trying to remove these items. “I need help.” She admitted. But no one knew her, really. They knew the Dragonborn with their scary mask. And that mask was safely in Whiterun. Taking off her shoes and armor, Elayne tried to rest that night. But she was distracted by the fact that two more piercings awaited her next use of  _ Captured Dreams. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ITEMS ACQUIRED  
> Iron Collar (Simple)  
> Silver Ankle Cuffs  
> Navel Piercing (Unknown Magic Effect)  
> Headband of Mana Replenishment (Hair? Something?)  
> Heeled Elven Boots  
> Unknown Piercings


	6. Chapter 6: Mercantile Dueling

Getting back to Whiterun was a rainy trip. No one questioned keeping her hood up at all times, her new blue hair kept in a tight bun behind the large headband she wore. She avoided casting any kind of spells the entire trip, spending it with two couriers that didn’t even pay her any attention. 

She learned that her new heeled boots were terrible in mud. Absolutely terrible. To the point that when she trudged through the gates she was near exhausted. Centuries of foot traffic had hardened the dirt and stone of the city’s walkways enough for the boots to find purchase. An invisibility spell was cast behind Warmaiden’s, and she ducked into Breezehome before anyone could catch her doing so. Cold and wet, she turned the lock in the door and sighed in relief. She was back, as much as she could be. 

Setting her pack down, she saw a note upon the table. Gone Hunting with friends. It was in Lydia’s large script and pinned to the table with a cheap iron dagger. The ink had dried, so it had been a few days since she had left. Elayne sighed in relief. She was alone and could investigate her life. Gold and gems she put into a small chest upstairs. It contained her whole savings. This place was still rather bare, and she was saving up to pay the steward for better accommodations. But the cobwebs were gone, and the empty corners had only a little bit of dust. She felt relief in taking off her armor, and just decided to be comfortable in one of her dresses. The silver anklets were showing, but it hid the collar on her neck and the piercing in her navel. The headband she couldn’t bother hiding, and a glance in the mirror showed that her bun was looking messy. She had tied it in Solitude at the start of the carriage ride two days before, but it shouldn’t look this bad.

Deft hands undid the leather knot holding it up, and the blue hair tumbled from her head. Longer and longer it unfurled, coming down past her tiny miniscule breasts. Rippling bluish purple hair that no one should ever have hung plain upon her, and Elayne blushed. “I can’t half-ass this anymore. I need to know more!” Before this her hair had barely tickled her neck. 

A collar. Cuffs upon her ankles. A piercing. Now a headband and hair that she couldn’t explain away. The sole table in the building was cleared of its wooden plates and bowl to make room for notes and journals. _Captured Dreams_ was also placed on the table, wrapped in a double knotted breastband. Behind its fake cover was power, if she could just understand how to use it! Hermaeus Mora said that it could provide the secrets to stopping Alduin. It just took a price from here every time she used it. 

Elayne was taking heavy notes on everything she knew about this, taking two days to write down everything she had seen and heard in her travels in one of the empty books she had stolen from the other world. With her normal journal rather full, it also included thoughts and concerns she had. The bluish purple hair, she discovered was rather permanent. Spilling ink upon the hair only stained it for an hour. It would grow back to its luscious long length if it was cut. The headband taunted her, working faster if she cast spells. But once it was grown out it stopped. 

“This headband is forcing me to keep an appearance..” She noted, writing down in her journal. “The blue hair is like nothing I’ve seen on anyone, and wearing a hood is suspicious enough.” She yawned, feeling a little cold. Wrapping herself with a blanket, she sat back down in the chair. “How am I going to,” She yawned again, succumbing to sleep. Idly, she rested her head upon the table. “Figure this out.” Her hands supported her head, one arm leaning against the thick tome that caused her all of this trouble. 

She was awoken by someone shaking her shoulder. “My Thane?”

Elayne opened her eyes. It was cold. Too cold. “Lydia?” She mumbled. Looking up, she saw her very confused housecarl. The fire was out, not even coals remaining. “How long was I asleep?”

“It’s morning, my Thane.” Lydia said, worried. “But you are different!”

Breezehome was different, too. She didn’t remember having garlic braids or herb hangings in the house. Or multiple chairs. It looked furnished. She felt a chill run down her back as she looked down at the table, and a large book open upon it. “Oh no, Lydia you didn’t!”

 _Captured Dream_ s lay open on the table, a single rune glowing in the middle of the page. It signified that it was active. “It was just a few words of a riddle.” Lydia said carefully. “But then there was some kind of magic effect.”

Stupid Pretty Lydia! She had activated the Black Book! “You idiot!” She hissed. “You are playing with magic you don’t understand!”

“That’s why I woke you.” Lydia said, chagrined. “But I thought you were practicing illusion with that hair.”

The blue locks hung past even Lydia’s hair when it was down. “This is real. And now you’ve activated the book. If you press that symbol, we go back to our world.”

“Our world?”

“This book, it lets me visit a different world. W-with a different Dragonborn.” She admitted shamefully. “He’s already defeated Alduin here.”

“So you want to know how.” Lydia understood immediately. 

“But the book is dangerous!” She insisted. “Every time you use it, you pay a price. That is what this headband is from!” She drew her legs up under the chair, hiding the ankle cuffs. “Now we are going to pay a price for using it.”

“Well,” Lydia seemed to look uncomfortable. “I am sorry for interfering with your things, My Thane. I never want to increase your burdens, not when you are already expected to do so much. Should we return?” She hovered a finger over the rune. 

“No.” Elayne said. “The price is going to be heavy.” She stood up, anklets visible past her skirts. “Let’s look out one of the windows and see what Whiterun looks like.”

The upstairs was vastly different. Lydia’s room no longer had a bed within it, and was instead a large mannikin and a small plaque. “Oh no.” Elayne whispered, reading it.

In loving memory of Lydia. Who bore the burdens of heroism. Died at Volskygge fighting two dragons and a dragon priest. Dates were given for her age, and Elayne looked over at her Housecarl. “I.. died.” Lydia whispered. “Fighting two dragons?”

“You did more than that, I think.” She pointed to the mannikin, where instead of armor pieces of dyed red leather sat. Thigh high boots with laces going all the way up covered the legs, and the arms had gloves that seemed enchanted, but went all the way up the arms. Nothing covered the torso, but the neck was covered with a collar that went from the ears to the shoulders, with thick laces and imposing red leather. “This is…” She didn’t want to finish the sentence. Her words would have been barbaric or domineering.

“Thoughtful.” Lydia finished the sentence. “The amount of detail is significant, and probably custom fitted. That’s expensive, and signifies importance.”

“I know we barely make ends meet from my adventures,” Elayne started to say. 

“But I am alive with you, My Thane. Please don’t think this means I will abandon you.” Lydia held her arm next to the Mannikin’s, seeing the glove being almost a mirrored fit. “Let us see what your bedroom holds.”

Elayne pushed the large doors open with trepidation. She shouldn’t have worried. The bed was large, and quality made. There were a lot more hooks and rings coming off of it, but the room was derelict besides the blanketed bed. “It doesn’t look like anyone lives here anymore.”

A search of the house turned up nothing else of value. Besides Lydia’s memoir, the most they found was a potion of waterbreathing that had rolled under the bed. Not a single septim or helpful anything. Through the window they could see the rest of Whiterun, most buildings damaged or burned. “What happened?!” Lydia asked, shocked.

“In the other world, the war is fierce. Ulfric Stormcloak attacked Whiterun, damaging the city. But that means that we can get information.” 

“This is terrible.” Lydia rubbed the dusty glass, trying to see better. “We need to know more to stop this from happening in our world.”

“The only way we can do that is if we go out there.” Elayne pointed out. “And I just emptied my pack of gold.”

“Meaning you have nothing to trade with.”

“I have nothing to trade with.” She confirmed. “Worse, if we leave the house we will get noticed like this.” She motioned to her dress. “This is considered prudish.”

“I can’t leave.” Lydia mentioned. “I’m supposed to be dead, here.”

“I know.” Elayne whispered. She was already blushing at the thought of what she had to do. Digging through her bag, she reached to the bottom where she kept things she didn’t like to share. “No armor, no money. And your boots are too large for my feet. I’ll just have to go barefoot.” From her bag she took out a blue linen dress. She had gotten it in Dawnstar, when Karita the bard had shared with her stories of the Dragonborn. It was thin, and backless. It wouldn’t hide her collar or ankle cuffs. But she blushed and changed into it anyways, leaving her breastband upon the table. Not that she had much in the way of breasts to worry about.

Lydia said nothing, and didn’t mock her for wearing something so skimpy. That professionalism was something she was grateful for. “You have a piercing?” Was her only question.

“More, soon.” She said. “That’s the price of using the book this time. Two more, somewhere.” Ears! Please be her ears!

Lydia nodded. “My apologies, my Thane.”

“It’s alright.” It really wasn’t. Elayne was seething. But stupid pretty Lydia wouldn’t understand what she just did. “We need gold and information. I’ll get that, at least.”

“I’ll stay here.” Lydia promised. “If you need me, come running.”

Elayne nodded. There wasn’t even water to drink in this house. Coming to the door, she started shaking a bit. “I can do this…” She whispered to herself. 

“You won’t hide that hair?” 

“This is the only outfit I have from this world and when I tried to wear my normal outfits I got mocked for it.” Elayne could feel her nipples harden. She had also gotten heavily groped for that. 

“Perhaps you should see if Belethor has other clothes that fit you.” Lydia offered. 

“But I have no money, Lydia!” Elayne murmured. “Belethor charges a fortune for most things to begin with.”

“Perhaps one of these might sell?” Lydia held up the outfit that was on the mannikin. She had removed it! 

“No! Don’t touch that, the other Dragonborn probably set that up as part of his memoir of you!” She wailed, stepping over to Lydia. 

“They’re enchanted.” Lydia countered, holding them to herself. “And it helps us understand this place.” If she didn’t know better, Elayne might have thought Lydia was feeling defensive.

“Wouldn’t they be well known?” Elayne pointed out. 

“A fair point, My thane. I always keep a few septims on me, just in case.” She reached into her belt and pulled out her small coin purse. “Here. Between this and that old potion you might be able to get enough for something else.” Twenty two septims tumbled into her palm. But Belethor would be a hard sell. He always was. She set it in her bag, near the top. The gigantic set of harnesses and gag near the bottom seemed to call notice to her. 

“I think I could sell this.” She held up the large object. “It’s got a name to it.”

“Oh gods!” Lydia looked at it, laughing. “I’ve never seen the like!”

“This belongs to someone named Serana. The ‘mage slave’ of the other Dragonborn.” She pointed out the label on it. “I bet it will sell.”

“That’s some gold for us. What will you do with it?” Lydia asked. 

“Maybe I’ll buy something more decent to wear.” Very important to Elayne! “But I might need it to bribe someone into telling me how the Dragonborn defeated Alduin.”

“Farengar would be good to talk to.” Lydia pointed out. “As the court wizard he could answer better than the priests or that handsy bard.”

Mikael! Oh, he was rude. Elayne shuddered. In this world he might be worse. There was no way she would get information out of him without being completely humiliated. If this world was any indication, of course. “I’ll go see Belethor first, and then Farengar.” And try not to get spanked by Mikael. “I’ll avoid the Bannered Mare.”

“I’ll pry up some floorboards.” Lydia joked, smiling. “See if anything is hidden here. Good luck, my thane.” She gave Elayne a nod, as if that could convey some kind of confidence. It was still Elayne that had to go outside in a backless dress without a breastband!

Before she could lose focus and give up again, she opened the front door and stepped out. The street was empty, but she already felt red heat flooding her cheeks. Belethor’s shop was just up the road, and her cold feet slapped the ground as she walked fast up to his door. The sun was out, and the marketplace was full of its normal moving crowd. Ysolda was at her stall, topless. Topless! In plain sight! Elayne averted her eyes, pushing the door open to Belethor’s shop. 

It was the same smell as always, with a few extra chests and items on display. In fact, the amount of wealth in his shop was absolutely staggering. She was used to the shelves being half empty or full of knick knacks. There was even a mannikin off to one side, with a set of armor upon it that looked like it was made from bone and sinew with ebony engravings. A truly massive war axe rested next to it. 

“Barefoot and pregnant, eh?” Belethor called from behind his store. “You’re new in town, I can tell.” But she really did know him! Just in the other world.

“This armor looks amazing.”

“Dragonscale armor.” Belethor grinned. “Not for sale, at least not for a slave like you.” Dragonscale could be turned into armor? She had never thought about it.

“Slave.” She felt the collar on her neck. “I uh,” She came up to the counter, bare feet feeling the wood of the floor. “I need some supplies.”

“Do you now?” Belethor chuckled. “What have you got?” This world was sick and wrong in many ways, but at her heart Elayne was the daughter of a merchant. Haggling was in her blood. She needed at least thirty gold for this potion, or else she and Lydia wouldn’t have enough for anything.

“I’ve got a potion of water breathing.” She stated. “And I am looking to buy, once we finish selling.”

Belethor was smiling. His shop seemed overflowing with goods. “A girl like you? I might have questions about where you got that potion.” He considered. “I’ll give you fifteen septims.”

“That will barely cover a night at the inn!” She countered. “The ingredients for these are common, sure, but the histcarp came from Morthal!”

“You can get chicken’s eggs and barnacles from a boat for cheaper.” He countered. “Ten septims since it came from Morthal.”

“You said fifteen!” 

“You want twice as much as I can offer someone to buy it!” Both of them were smirking at that moment. Haggling was a long practice of Bretons. 

“For the effort I went through to get the histcarp? Of course I do!”

“Then I’ll give you twenty. But not a sliver more!”

“Fine.” It was what she would have to accept. Forty three septims were in her purse. “I need some new shoes. The old ones broke.”

“Ah! So not the barefoot and pregnant type.” Belethor nodded. “But you are wearing a collar.”

“I uh, woke up after sleeping in a dungeon and it was upon me. I can’t get it off.”

“I can take a look if you want.” Belethor smiled. “The Dragonborn’s slaves used to get all kinds of things stuck to them. I’ve gotten them out of much worse.” He patted his counter. “Lean over so I can look at your neck.”

Odd, that he would say that instead of coming around the counter. Elayne shrugged, leaning forward so her chest was against the well softened wood. Her heart was beating slightly faster, knowing her entire back was on display for Belethor to look at. “I can’t see a way to get it off.”

“Yep.” Belethor placed a hand on her neck, the other pulling her now-blue hair out of the way. “Ancient nordic torc collar. Happens sometimes when you’re in an old ruin. Enchanted iron, meant to capture their slave labor.” His breath was hitting her bare back, goosebumps breaking out along her arms. “So you don’t belong to anybody, huh.”

“No.” Elayne said, face still on his counter. His body was awfully close to her, but she didn’t find that too bad. If he knew how to get this off, it would help a lot. “I guess I have bad luck for those cursed items though.”

“I could get that off of you for three hundred septims.” Belethor gave her shoulder a pat. “It’s going to take some serious materials.”

“Three hundred?!” She rose up off the counter, glaring. “What kind of materials are required?”

“Embalming tools, some burial urn dust, and some bone meal from a draugr deathlord.” He grumbled, looking around. “Or a Dragon Priest.” His eyes ran down her body, as if appraising her. “You want those anklets off, too?”

“I don’t even know what those are.” Elayne murmured. “I’m more concerned about the collar!”

“I would be more concerned about those anklets. Those are trouble. You see, they are a more modern type of object invented by Aldmeri wizards of note. That’s moonstone you’re wearing on your ankles. And they are more devious than a simple unenchanted collar that just takes the bones and organs of a dead man to remove. You see, those anklets of yours are like magnets for trouble. Moonstone calls out to itself. So that headband of yours? Looks great, by the way. Probably having trouble because of those anklets.”

“How do you get those off? I haven’t seen any keyholes!”

“Ask a Thalmor.” Belethor shrugged. “I don’t know how to figure out those. That’s some of the most advanced slave equipment in Nirn you’ve got on your ankles. Next thing you know, you’ll be prancing around in those heels the elves think are so pretty.”

“I already got a pair of those.” Elayne grumbled. “I need more clothes, though. Something for when I need to meet important people.”

“For the amount of gold you have, I don’t think I could help.” Belethor said honestly. “You’re rubbing together debris from the war or cheap crap from a nordic ruin and trying to make gold come from it. I bet with your gear I could get you a set of shoes and something you can wear at home for your not-master.” 

Elayne frowned. He might be right, on that at least. “I have one other thing I need to know the price of.” She dug into her bag, reaching towards the bottom. Dragging out the item she got in Yngvild, she held up the mass of straps and ebony sphere that was aptly called ‘Serana’s Bitch Tamer’. “I found this in my travels. I know it belongs to the Dragonborn’s Mage Slave.”

“I’ll give you one hundred and fifty.” Belethor began his barter. 

“This is a unique item made with ebony!”

“And I’m offering one fifty for it.”

“Ebony items are never under five hundred in value!” Belethor had told her that himself. But haggling was a time honored Breton tradition. Imperials could find gold in a marsh shithole, but a Breton could argue until creation ended about the price of bread. “And this is custom designed for Serana!” 

Belethor seemed to give her a new level of respect. “Well, someone has gotten big for their britches. Why don’t you pay for some boots so you can look me in the eye when you claim such a bald faced lie.”

Mocking her height was something elves did on a regular basis. It didn’t phase her. “Tell you what, Belethor.” She said with poise. “I’m going up to Dragonsreach after this. Give me some shoes and an outfit that will get me some respect up there and I’ll commit to paying you full gold for it.”

Belethor was being stubborn, and they both knew it. “You know? Perhaps it is worth more to me than one fifty. But right now you’re wearing a slave collar. Perhaps if you showed me the kind of praise you might show your master, I’ll give you the full price for the ebonite and moonstone gag you have there.”

Ebonite? What a curious name for a material. But then Belethor started taking off his pants, and Elayne colored. “What are you doing?” She yelped, turning away. 

“What are you doing?” he laughed. “You’re the girl with a slave collar. You want more than one fifty, prove it!”

Elayne felt heat running through her cheeks. He wanted her to perform sexual favors?! She had always heard of rumors of that happening, but she had never been the subject of them! “I’m not having sex over this!”

“It’s just a blowjob, sweet cheeks. But wearing that collar? You’d be lucky if anyone at Dragonsreach allowed you inside. You look like a slave, and without someone to walk you in, you’ll get thrown out.” He chuckled. “I’m being rather fair with you, I think. You want a full price? Get on your knees and prove it.”

Elayne bit her lip. She had no idea what to do. So, with an eep and a squeal, she ran out of the store. She had cast invisibility before the door was fully open, and her heart was hammering as she slid to a stop in front of Breezehome, squeezing the door open only enough to get inside. Gasping for breath, she held herself against the door as her invisibility spell ended. 

Lydia was at the table, her arms covered in the red leather gloves. She had a bit of a nervous smile on her face, even as Elayne’s face was cherry red. “My thane?” She looked up. “What is the matter?”

“It’s Belethor!” She said, almost wailing. “He won’t give me a fair price unless I give him a blowjob! But he says he can get off the collar!”

“That’s great!” Lydia smiled. “I mean, oh no!” She changed her tune when she say Elayne looking near tears over the idea. “...” There was a long silence. “Haven’t you ever given a man a blowjob before?” 

“You have?” Elayne murmured. 

“I was a guard for years before I became a housecarl, my Thane.” Lydia laughed. “Believe it or not, I know quite a bit about this kind of thing.” She held up the glove she was wearing. “These are enchanted to the point that I can carry twice what I normally could.”

“That powerful?” Elayne mused for a moment. “Wait, go back to the part where you know how this works!”

“The gloves and the bedroom toys or the blowjob?” Lydia asked with some snark.

“T-the blowjob.” Elayne whispered out. 

“My Thane?” Lydia questioned, looking amused. “Do you want me to teach you how to give a blowjob?”

“He said that slave girls who wear collars like mine do that all the time.” She sniffed, emotional. “But I can’t afford to get this collar off unless I give him one!” 

“Well, that’s not terrible. You aren’t agreeing to be in debt to him or incur penalties with the guards. There were plenty of guards in the hold that would take a bribe for a tumble in bed rather than someone paying a fine.” Lydia explained, taking off the gloves on her hands. “Come on, I know just the right way. You’re woman, so you might have had to learn how to do this at some point.”

“No I wouldn’t have.” Elayne countered.

“What would your husband think?” Lydia returned.

“I don’t have one!”

“Your future husband would probably think it important, then.” 

Lydia led the way upstairs, towards the main bedroom. She dug around in one of the cabinets, jiggling first one and then another until she dragged out an old bottle of alto wine. That she held up in front of Elayne. 

“What is that supposed to be.” 

Lydia held up a finger and then grabbed one of the gloves she had just been wearing. It slid over the wine bottle, covering the old dusty surface in bright red leather. “Practice.” It looked, well; vaguely shaped like something a man would have. “Now kneel down on the bed.” Lydia did so first, patting the area next to her. Elayne joined her, the shorter skirts hugging her thighs in new and odd ways. “I’ll show you what to do first.”

Lydia took the wine bottle and tilted her head upwards at a slight angle. Elayne felt a bit of warmth color her cheeks, as if she wasn’t supposed to be watching this. She started by licking the entire head of the bottle, before holding it up at the same angle as her tilted face. And then the bottle tip was touching her lips. Lydia kissed it, almost fondly. Elayne had to remind herself to take a breath. Then Lydia took the bottle between her lips and sucked on it, the entire object sliding past her lips until the rounded base of the alto wine smacked into them. Lydia seemed to take ages to pull back, the red covered top of the bottle coming almost out of her mouth before sliding entrancingly back in. All of this was done with the muscles of her jaw moving, and her throat constricting slightly. Elayne could feel herself swallow deeply as she watched Lydia perform this, the bottle sliding in and then out once again hypnotically. 

Then, all too quickly it ended. The magic seemed broken, and Lydia wiped off the red covered bottle before offering it to Elayne. “See?” She said, taking a deep breath of her own. “Just like that.”

Elayne gulped. The bottle looked a lot larger in her hands than it did Lydia’s. “You’ve done this a lot?”

“Not a lot of female guards, my Thane.” She pointed out. “We needed a bit of an edge over the others if you wanted to secure good positions. But I didn’t have it too bad. A very patient boyfriend a few years ago helped. I wasn’t very good at first.” Lydia gave a nervous chuckle. “But it is exciting to have some level of control over men like this.”

“Yeah.” She agreed, truly having no idea. “Um, can you teach me through it?”

“Hold your hands up first.” Lydia explained. “Tilt your head. Don’t be afraid of it, you do that and it creates problems. Even if you are afraid, just put it on your tongue and focus on that. Keep the bottle,” Lydia’s hands pushed the bottle gently towards her mouth. “On your tongue.”

Elayne blushed, sticking out her tongue until she could feel the smooth leather at the tip. It didn’t seem all that bad, for a material. “Like this?” She asked. 

“Now put your lips around it.” Lydia coached, letting Elayne guide the bottle in. It felt large, the bottle looking gigantic as it rested just past her nose. “Don’t be afraid of it, now suck it in!” Lydia helped it along, and soon Elayne felt like her mouth was being invaded by a leather bound intruder. She bit down, stopping it with her teeth. “My thane, this is generally the part where the man would slap you. Don’t bite, it goes very badly.” Lydia warned. “Now, open your teeth and suck on it.”

Elayne shuddered, loosening her jaw. Lydia didn’t wait, nudging the bottle forward until it was inside her teeth. She couldn’t shut her mouth now, not with the bottle in between her teeth. In slight panic, she mewled around it. 

“Suck on it, my thane.” Lydia reminded. “Gods, your mother must have been a prude too.”

Elayne made a rude sound in her throat, but in her mind agreed. Her mother barely explained what the animals were doing when it came to sex. For men and women? The weak-voiced woman barely told her how to manage a chore, much less be a merchant. She was always her father’s child in that way. Some people just married for looks.

It was too bad she only got the ass end of the deal. “Suck!” Lydia broke her from her reverie, and she sucked reflexively. The bottle’s stem slid all the way to her throat, inch by gaping inch. She felt hot, in a way that she never had before. Elayne barely noticed when the base of the bottle’s stem smooshed against her lips, marking her mouth being completely full of bottle. Breathing through her nose, she tried to move back and forth on it like Lydia had, her entire body moving with her mouth. When Lydia finally took the bottle from her mouth, a trail of saliva connected her and the red leather for a long moment. Then the spittle dropped, falling upon the bed. “For someone who hasn’t done this before, you seem very good at it.”

“Um.” Elayne’s mouth felt like it had been defiled somehow, and she hadn’t even done anything yet. “Fast learner, I guess?” Or she was born under the Lover’s Constellation and refused to share that information with anyone. 

“Just remember, don’t get it in your eyes.” Lydia made a motion of the bottle emptying. “It burns and you look humiliated until you can wash your eyes out. Trust me.” She winked. 

“Alright.” Elayne felt flush, and reminded her body to move. “Thank you, Lydia.”

“Normally I would tell you to punch a man until he gives you what you want, but in this case,” Lydia dragged the red glove off the bottle. “I hope you act like a real whore.”

“M-me too?” What the hells kind of support was that supposed to be? Stupid pretty Lydia. “I still don’t know if I’ll be able to go to Dragonsreach.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll pry up some floorboards and you go look for information your own way.” Lydia smiled. “Bring back food! This place has nothing to eat!” Lydia called. 

On her way to the door, Elayne passed the still open _Captured Dreams_ on the table. It swirled with power, and she tried to avoid it. This world had the answers to defeating Alduin. She had to keep reminding herself of that, as this place was so confusing to her. But Belethor knew how to get this damned collar off of her neck, and that was worth a lot to her. Taking a deep breath, she used her invisibility spell and moved through the back alleys towards Belethor’s shop. He had a side door, one that faced slightly away from the crowded marketplace. She opened that, her invisibility falling soon after.

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes!” Belethor bellowed. “The slave girl returns!”

“I’m here about your offer.”

“The offer has changed.” Belethor stated, his eyes staring mischievously. “I took the liberty of helping you find an outfit and shoes. Since you’re a Breton I thought you could handle it.” He pushed a bundle of fabrics across the counter. “I thought you needed something to show me you’ll keep your word.”

“My word!” Elayne shuffled her feet. “You’re the one who demanded-”

“You ran off!” Belethor interrupted loudly. “So, no haggling over the outfit. You want shoes? You want clothes? I chose for you, until you can get that collar off.” He motioned to the gear. “I’ll give it all to you for fifteen septims. It’s a fair bargain.” 

“What about the ebonite?”

“Get dressed and we can debate that.” He pushed the outfit closer. “You backed out of negotiations, and that was entirely rude. I could have warned the guards, but I chose not to. You can get changed in the other room.” Belethor insisted. 

“Fine.” Elayne said with as much dignity as she could muster. There was a set of heeled shoes, but the rest of the fabric looked very minimal. It was simplistic, a mockery of what would be considered a merchant’s dress. There was had to be more apron than skirt, and she tied it behind her neck dourly. When she stepped back into the main area, Belethor was grinning wildly. “Better for you?”

“Fits you better than my first wife.” The merchant chuckled. “Now, about that ebonite.”

“I want more than six hundred septims.” Elayne said quickly. 

“I’ll agree to that, if you can at least pay up the difference.” Belethor said. Gods! She had been lowballing the price in her head! He wouldn’t have agreed so readily. Something that small wouldn’t be worth more than an entire suit of armor, would it? “Come around behind the counter, just in case I get other customers.” No privacy?! Anyone could walk in here and see Elayne doing this. Belethor must have noticed. “Come on, slave girl. Before I change my mind.”

The heels clacked on the wood and stone, before she got a good look at the other side of Belethor’s counter. It had plenty of nooks and crannies in it, with dozens of small shelves for different small items. A slim rug was behind the counter, easier for him to stand on all day. But that slim rug also was where her knees hit the floor, the cold coming through. The outfit covered nothing of her legs, and left her shoulders and arms bare. Making sure she wasn’t completely wretched, she finally looked up. And that was when she made eye contact. “Gods.” She murmured.

It was a cock. Gigantic to her current perspective, and it made her cross eyed to look at it, inches from the tip of her nose. “Get busy, slave girl!” Belethor chuckled. “Show me you want that gold.”

Thick and veiny, Lydia’s words came to mind. She focused on that, beyond all else. Tentatively, she brought her tongue out and made contact with the bottom of it. It felt warm in a way that the bottle she had practiced on had not. Heat was pooling in her stomach and other areas, as she knew without a doubt she was doing something no good women would be caught doing in public! Suck! She reminded herself. That’s what she needed to do right here and right now. It felt so wrong, but a part of her was excited. Her lips clamped down over the cock, her tongue still keeping contact.

It felt like her entire body rushed with heat as she started sucking it, moving her head forward and then backward when things got too full. Belethor was grunting above her, and Elayne just closed her eyes and focused. Her face and breasts felt hot, the world she knew came down to what was in her mouth and just keeping that from going wrong. She kept her panic down, and tried not to think about her teeth. Or biting. Or stopping from the slow drag of the hot rod in her mouth back and then forth. 

Belethor’s hands took hold of her headband. He was keeping her from moving away from him, just as most of him was inside her mouth. “Open up, slave girl!” Belethor yelled, hot seed rushing into her mouth. She tried to panic, but his hands were keeping her head from moving away! More and more was filling her mouth, pressure building. 

And then the doors to the shop opened. Elayne mewled, swallowing the load as she couldn’t see who came in. It must have been an entire minute that she sat there, unable to move back and blind to whoever was that was in the shop. Above her, Belethor took his hands off to exchange some gold with the customer. Elayne could feel her stomach boiling, her cheeks red and her heart hammering. Finally, it was over. But still she could still feel her mouth working. She had been sucking this whole time, and once she realized that, it took conscious effort to release the cock in her mouth. 

Belethor was quiet for a moment, after she wiped her face. “Thanks again, Nazeem!” He called, the door shutting. “You’re not bad, Slave girl.”

Elayne didn’t know what to say, a foreign taste on her tongue and her entire body tingling. “Gold. Please.” She managed to get out, standing up. Blue hair fluttered, and she stepped around the counter and past the mannikin with dragonscale armor. 

“Six hundred and fifty.” Belethor counted, making this the largest single coin purse she had ever gotten so far. During all of her travels she had bartered quite a bit but traded little. There was no need to rob tombs or disturb the lives of others if she could avoid it. “Thank you for your business, traveler.”

“Three hundred for getting this collar off of me.” Elayne said, taking a long moment to breathe. “Then I have other questions.”

“Can’t get that collar off of you, sweet cheeks. I’d need an embalming tool, a burial urn, and the bone meal of the most powerful draugr in whatever ruin that came from. Bring that to me, and I’ll be able to get your collar off.” Belethor seemed apologetic about that at least. “For those anklets and headband, you’d need to talk to an altmer mage. Calcelmo in Markarth knows a lot about those. Elenwen, too. But last I heard she was wearing a full set of it and chained to her desk for morale purposes.” He shrugged. “But that was the Dragonborn talking, so who knows.”

“You know him pretty well?”

“For over a year I was his favorite barter. He adventured and I would get all of the items he kept that weren’t weapons or armor. So I had dwemer items, falmer ears, knick knacks and ingots for ages. I was also the guy he had to talk to for getting objects off his slaves, so that was always entertaining.”

“He went looking for an elder scroll, right?”

Belethor smiled. “He went looking for three. I saw two of them with my own eyes!” Belethor held his hands out, almost the length of his torso. “Cases for them as long as my arms. Never told me where he found them, but I know for a fact what kind of places he returned from after getting them!” Belethor rubbed his hands together. “He’s been through almost every inch of this province in the last three years.” Three years! Elayne had to blink at that information. “He found the first one in Blackreach. Deep deep underground. Nasty place, to hear of it now. He and Lydia came back with so many diseases Danica Pure-Spring had them quarantined in the north tower for a week.” 

“I think I know where Blackreach is.” She knew how to get there, at least.

“Most can find it.” Belethor nodded. “But he traded me something that doesn’t just come every day. There is an dwemer device down in that hellhole. Some kind of star-reading tower. He sold me some of the pieces. Curious glass and metal shapes, which I sold to the Synod for enough money to retire.” He sighed. “Too bad. I haven’t seen him in months.”

“What about the other Elder Scrolls?”

“That’s a bit harder.” Belethor smirked. “I tried to figure those out. Not a lot to do while waiting for customers. Nordic ruin, some vampiric stuff came from them. So could be anything.” He rubbed his chin. “Serana came back as his slave right about that time, too. As for the third elder scroll, well. The Dragonborn had moved most of his buying and selling elsewhere by then.”

“Sorry.” She apologized.

“It’s not your fault. You made my day, slave girl.”

“I have a name!” 

“Elayne, I remember. And you’ve got quite a bit of gold now. Planning on spending it all in one place?”

“Can I buy a cheese wheel and some mead?” Elayne looked around. “The bread and dried pork?”

“That’s my dinner.” Belethor pointed around at the food mentioned. “But I suppose if you can still eat, you’re more of a slave girl than I thought.” Her face colored, feeling self conscious. 

“Why don’t you own the bannered mare at this point, with that attitude?”

“Bah!” He laughed. “I blew all my savings this year. Gotta start all over.”

“On what?” Elayne decided to ask. 

“Between my shop and Warmaiden’s, we were able to pay for a new wall around Whiterun. Bigger, even.” Belethor glowed. “During the siege there were a lot of people without water. I didn’t like that. So we don’t want that to happen again.”

“That’s one of the nicest things i’ve heard in Skyrim, Belethor.” Elayne told him with a smile. “I hope you really do get your savings back someday.”

“You too, Slave girl. At least now with that dress you look the part. Officially, and all.” He laughed. “Don’t get lost in the Dragonsreach dungeons! Irileth is a crazy bitch when it comes to her domineering fantasies.”

“Uh.” Elayne didn’t know how to respond to all of that. “Bye.” Another round of invisibility, and she dashed back to the comfort of Breezehome. When the door shut, she could feel the cold already seeping in for the night. Any warmth she had from her sexual performance died when she saw the state of the inside. There was no sign that anyone had been here. No book on the table. No laid out materials. “Lydia?”

There was no answer. “Oh gods, Lydia?” Try as she might, the house was empty. And _Captured Dreams_ was gone. Only upon careful inspection did she notice the square band of dust on the table. “Oh no.” Lydia had used the book. Elayne was left behind in this crazy world. Her armor and weapons were in the other world. She bit her lip, terrified. She didn’t know the book worked like that. She was stuck! Worse, if she started a fire, everyone would know that Breezehome wasn’t empty. Shuddering, she drew the short slave dress around herself, heading upstairs to wrap herself with the thin blankets that remained in the house. 

“I’m a slave girl in Whiterun. What the fuck.” Shivering, Elayne stared at the door and waited. Yet Lydia never came. Sleep claimed her, even as her despair rose. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ITEMS ACQUIRED:  
> Iron Collar (Simple)  
> Moonstone Ankle Cuffs  
> Navel Piercing (Unknown Magic Effect)  
> Moonstone Headband of Mana Replenishment (Hair? Something?)  
> Heeled Elven Boots  
> Unknown Piercings


	7. Chapter 7: Lifestyle Changes

More than a day passed as Elayne waited for Lydia. She had a bit of food and water, and more than six hundred and fifty gold septims in her purse. But with only a couple of skimpy dresses and heeled shoes, she wasn’t going to be able to get far in this world. Especially with the sour weather. Rain was beating against the city, and she didn’t even have a cloak to be able to go out there. The rain was light, but Elayne didn’t want to risk getting cold when she couldn’t light a fire to warm herself. 

Bored, she played with her blue hair, trying to put it into a style or design upon her head. Unless she twisted it or braided it very tightly, it would uncoil itself. It seemed to very much want to hang straight down to her navel. There was so much of it, and such an odd color. Some kind of magic effect wanted five long strands of purple-blue hair to hang down, with two in front and three in back. It just naturally liked to sit like that. Combing it took a long time, and it still hurt to be pulled. So it was still her hair, but the moonstone headband was making it the odd color and length. 

She was considering using one of her dresses as a cloak to go outside for some food, having only a bit of cheese left. It was too cold to go barefoot, but the only shoes that she had were the heeled ones Belethor gave her. So as she made her way through the house, the clicks and clacks on wood and stone became more familiar. She could stand to walk in them longer, though her ankles were very sore. Though she didn’t like to admit it, these skimpy outfits fit her gigantic ass better than the large dresses ever did. So she kept wearing them, blanket wrapped around her like a ward. 

But after two days, she needed to go and get more food. She had gold, but no way to defend herself. She needed a new weapon anyways. Warmaiden’s was only a few doors down, and she did know them quite well. Arianne had custom fitted her armor, at least. In this world perhaps she was still happy to help. 

Eating the last of her cheese, she pulled the backless linen dress back into position. It had a habit of sliding around, and even though no one was here she felt self conscious. Around midday the rain seemed to stop, and Elayne took the chance. First to the market, buying fruit bread and mead for herself. She felt stares from some of the folk about, but just kept her head down and avoided eye contact. The only thing covering her back from her waist to neck was her blue hair, and it felt more sensuous than it should. 

Her heels clicked on the cobblestone as she made her way back towards the gates, coming up to Warmaiden’s. There was scaffolding near the building, part of it damaged from siege weapons. Dragging her skirt lower, Elayne stepped into the shop.

“Welcome to Warmaiden’s!” Ulfberth called. “Ah, perhaps I can interest you in some daggers and light armor?”

Did she look like a waif who couldn’t hold a sword? Glancing down at herself, blue hair and perched on a pair of stilt shoes she partially agreed with his sentiment. After a long moment. “I am in the market for an enchanted weapon.”

Ulfberth nodded. “If you need it, I have a full set of light elven armor that should fit you. It used to belong to a woman named Eola. Followed the Dragonborn around for a while, but died to a giant. No amount of armor will save you under that kind of force.” He warned. 

“I was actually just looking for weapons.” 

“You’re half dressed and shivering. Your master should have dressed you warmer.” Ulfberth grunted. “I won’t sell a slave girl a weapon.”

Elayne growled. This damn collar! It was making doing anything in this world so hard! “What if I buy an armor?”

“The only thing in this store that will fit an ass that wide is right here.” Ulfberth stated without shame, pointing to the armor he had already brought out. “But if you buy it, I might be willing to part with some lighter weapons.”

“I need something for ghosts and undead.”

Ulfberth gave her a glance. “Why not just hire the Companions?”

“Because it’s better to solve some problems on your own. If we call the Companions for every little thing, then it’s just an excuse you give yourself to avoid conflict.”

“You aren’t a slave, are you.” Ulfberth stated.

“No. Just cursed. Fell asleep in a ruin and got this collar.” The lie was coming to her lips easier. 

“Belethor knows how to get the magic ones off. Nonmagical stuff you can get removed by a blacksmith with the right tools. Yours all look enchanted. Sorry.” He admitted apologetically. “But you do have a fine ass.” 

Elayne wasn’t used to having it be complimented. “That armor will fit me?” 

“Easily. Light and can handle being worn with some of your equipment. One fifty, if you promise to buy a weapon too.” He grinned. Not much of a barterer, Ulfberth would honor agreements. But he also seemed to have enough supplies on hand to keep an army. Judging by all of the stormcloak sigils, he certainly had plenty from the earlier battle in Whiterun. 

“Fine.” Elayne agreed. “I do like elven armor.” It was sleek, and the lines were very nice. Though it was brighter, wearing metal felt an awful lot better than furs or studded leather like many of the Nords here preferred. 

“Boots and gauntlets for another seventy?” A steal, perhaps. Then again, Warmaiden’s looked filled to bursting with items and gear. 

“You look like you need to get rid of some stock, and at that price I’ll agree.” She nodded. “Now, let me see your weapons. I need things for Draugr and ghosts.”

“I’ve got plenty for that.” Ulfberth went to one of his many loaded chests, pulling out a set of moonstone gloves and wristguards. They looked to be in good condition, but lacked covering up to the elbows. They looked dainty and rather feminine. The boots that followed made her bite her lip. They were a set of high heeled moonstone shoes, with lace wraps up the calf. “See? Just your style.”

No! Not Elayne’s style! She was only wearing these heeled shoes because she had nothing else! “Oh yes.” Silly tongue! The lies were rolling faster now, but Elayne wanted a weapon. An armor was set next to them, looking more like layers of gossamer moonstone fabric with pauldrons than armor. Though it looked like it ended in a skirt rather than greaves. “Does that armor include pants?”

“Why? Those anklets of yours are most likely enchanted. Giving you armor that interfered with them might just cause you more trouble. This is a very light armor. Shaped more like a dress, I know. But for you, I just figure it’s better to plan for what might go wrong.”

What might go wrong. Well, that didn’t sound unlikely. “What is best against Draugr?”

Ulfberth smiled. “Ah.” He drew out a dwarven sword, glittering red with enchantment. “Here. The Dragonborn used this years ago. Burns anything you hit.”

“How much for all of this?” 

“Well? Considering you’re taking them off my hands, let’s settle for four hundred.” It was a steal. It had to be. Elayne licked her lips, smiling. 

“Four hundred.” She agreed, feeling happy. Counting out the coins, Ulfberth handed over the gear and Elayne felt pleased as could be. As she took the pile and hefted the sword and armor into her bag, she felt a bit more of a breeze along her buttocks. Looking back, she could see Ulfberth’s axe was in his hands, and he was using the tip of the handle to lift her skirt up. “Ah!” She squealed, twisting away. 

“Hah! Definitely not a slave.” The man laughed. “You’re lucky I’m married, girl. Go bother some other haunt. My wife won’t like you running around with that collar on.”

Elayne nodded, taking the back way out. A simple casting of Invisibility and she was back in Breezehome, shivering from all the cold air on her back. And when she came in, there was a sight for sore eyes. 

“My thane!” Lydia was here! Elayne gave a holler and ran up to hug her, grinning. 

“Lydia! I knew you’d come back!”

“The book doesn’t stay open forever.” Lydia stated. “I think the magic closed the book. I didn’t touch it.”

“Why did it take so long to come get me?” Elayne murmured. “It’s been days!”

“I had to solve a riddle to use it.” Lydia returned. “I am not as brilliant as you, obviously.” 

Elayne just had to read it, not solve riddles. “Sorry Lydia. I’m just glad you came back for me.”

The door rattled. Both women turned. “I tell you, I saw that door open and shut! Someone’s been using Breezehome!” A voice on the other side declared loudly. “In the name of Jarl Baalgruf, surrender!”

“Oh, we have to go!” Elayne grabbed everything she had taken out in her days of being here. Even the empty bottle of alto wine. Holding Lydia with one hand, she pressed the rune on the open _Captured Dreams_ and the world flashed brightly. The backless linen dress fluttered for an instant, and she tottered on her heels. But looking around, it was Breezehome. Her Breezehome. The fire was lit, there was food around, and she could see all of her things in their places. “Oh Lydia! Thank you!”

Any hug she intended was cut off by the feeling of the soft linen of her dress dragging across her nipples. Her gasp was audible across town, she could swear. It was like the entire world rippled, and nothing mattered but for that feeling. “My thane?” Lydia asked. “Are you alright?”

Carefully, Elayne drew the blue linen of her backless dress aside. Her tiny little breasts became exposed as the fabric was pulled away, and she whined in aggravation. The use of _Captured Dreams_ always had a price. Hanging from each nipple were piercings. A matching set of soul gems, moonstone and silver rings holding them unbroken to her skin. But it felt like they had just been inserted, the skin almost aflame with feeling and tenderness. “Oh gods.”

“Those are not small.” Lydia murmured, as Elayne felt self conscious. Her skimpy dress was drawn back over herself, but a single scrape from the fabric had her weak in the knees. 

“No!” Elayne gasped. “I thought these went in my ears!”

“The price of using the book?”

“Yes.” Just having her dress near her nipples was enough to make her entire body quiver. “Gods!” 

Lydia seemed to understand immediately. She went over to Breezehome’s front door and slid the lock home. “Take off your dress, my thane. It might be better to just be topless until you can handle it. I won’t let anyone visit you, and you can stay nice and warm here at home until we figure things out.”

Elayne nodded, dragged the linen fabric down her body. It was like getting changed, she told herself. Except that nothing would replace it. And stupid pretty Lydia with her large breasts would never understand the stigma that small ones carried. It was easy to look down and see her smalls and heeled shoes. The only things she was wearing now. With the warm fire it was enough to stay warm, and the light glittered over each of the three soul gems that hung from her. All of them looked like whole and complete lesser soul gems, unfilled by souls. Her nipples looked permanently puffy, the gems as large as her small breasts and dominating the view. Just moving around made the gems swing, the light stones brushing against her bare skin. 

“I had to get help from Mikael to solve the riddle.” Lydia expressed sourly. “My apologies for taking so long to come back for you. He wanted more than a few friendly drinks.” 

“I managed to get the full price for that item.” Elayne responded. “And I bought some armor and weapons.”

“But you just spent hundreds of gold on that fitted elven armor!”

“I had to if I wanted to get the rest of the trade! And Ulfberth gave me something that would work with things if I kept using the book.”

Lydia nodded. “It looks like we both paid a price, my thane.” She drew back her armor, revealing her neck. Elayne could just barely make out a slim band of moonstone from her angle, but knew that meant Lydia was wearing a collar. A collar that marked her. “And we can’t go back while in Breezehome now. It will be too dangerous.”

“Well.” Elayne took her back and began unloading it. Though she felt a bit more self conscious in just a set of heeled shoes and smalls doing so. She had almost a thousand gold now. There were a few gems, and now she had a few choices for armor. Her full set of elven armor and now a lighter set of elven armor, along with a Forsworn armor that fit her. “We could try asking some other powerful magic users. Though I did learn one thing.” She brought out all of the heeled shoes she had gotten so far. One crude iron pair, from Belethor. Her full elven armored boots had been turned into some kind of spindly heeled boots with moonstone going up to the knee. And the light armored pair just looked like bands of moonstone wrapped up the calf. The shortest set of heels were from her full armor, but Elayne had been strutting around for days in something taller. “Moonstone gear like this.” She motioned to the anklets on her bare legs. “It’s an altmer creation. The thalmor might know how to remove them.”

“But the thalmor are not charitable.” Lydia pointed out. “What about Alduin? What did you find out?”

“That there are three Elder Scrolls here in Skyrim. One is down in Blackreach. A second one is near some undead and someone named Serana. The third I have no idea.” Elayne was writing this down as she spoke, soul gems swaying as her quill moved. “I have all the tools to reach Blackreach, but it is filled with Falmer. Hundreds and maybe thousands of them.”

“More than the two of us can handle.” Lydia pointed out.

“Agreed.” Even the other world’s Dragonborn had trouble with the place. And she was half the hero he was. “We might need to fund an expedition. It involves going through an already rich dwemer ruin and down deeper into the ground than the sun can reach. So, know anyone that might be eager to go into a place that terrible?”

“Calcelmo.” Lydia snapped her fingers. “We spoke to him once, he’s the altmer mage in Markarth!”

“Markarth.” She noted that idea down. “I’ll write a letter to him. Anyone else?”

“With a war on, not a lot of fighting men bored and free to act. If you wanted to try a bandit clan, I’m sure they might actually listen if you decide to give them all of the gold they find.”

“Dwemer coins hold great value, when they used gold.” Elayne smiled. “Plus, I just want the Elder Scroll. Whoever we hire can have the rest.” She was a hero. She didn’t need a lot for that. 

“What are these?” Lydia smirked, holding up two large moonstone bands. They were large, and looked too big to be for someone’s arms. 

“My next price.” Elayne murmured, taking one of the thin bands of metal. It was large, an unbroken circle of beautiful silver moonstone. Holding it against her leg, she could see that it was meant for her thighs. “I won’t be able to wear my full elven armor greaves over these.”

“So we need to be careful. Only use it if we absolutely have to.”

“Right.” Elayne said, nipples feeling like pebbles with weights attached to them. “I’ll need paper and more ink. I’ll write to the Jarls I know of and state my intention to go into Blackreach for Dwemer secrets in two fortnights.” Lydia nodded, heading out the door and towards Belethor’s. Leaving Elayne alone and almost nude in her own home. 

It was hard to focus, her train of thought disturbed by the slightest motion of the soul gems attached to her. The gems barely weighed anything, but they bounced mercilessly if she moved. Biting her lip, she stood up. The gems rolled, flaring outward before sliding back into place hanging beneath her nipples. She expected pain, but instead felt a gently tugging that made her cheeks grow flush. “Why does that feel good?” She asked herself, annoyed. Her breasts were annoying to her. Barely large enough to deserve the name, these soul gems were as big as her miniscule pimples. But today they could not leave her mind. 

Shaking her head, she grabbed some food and sat down, chewing on her lower lip as the piercings swung back and forth. Gods, she could barely focus as her nipples were pulled first one way and then the other. Every nerve in her body was ignoring any signal other than those swaying gems. Admittedly, it took a long time for her to finish dinner. As well as write the letters. 

Elayne spent an entire week cooped up in Breezehome, topless and occupying her day with letter writing and good food. She got used to the fact that Lydia was around, able to see almost all of her. Finally, after seven days her nipples had gotten desensitized enough that she could at least wrap her chest in a breastband. From there, the expedition she was considering was becoming a reality. With her dragon priest mask, no one questioned that she was the dragonborn. Collar neatly hidden behind armor or outfits, she prepared for a large expedition. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ITEMS ACQUIRED:  
> Iron Collar (Simple)  
> Moonstone Ankle Cuffs  
> Navel Piercing (Unknown Magic Effect)  
> Nipple Piercings (Unknown Magic Effect)  
> Moonstone Headband of Mana Replenishment (Source of Blue Hair)  
> Heeled Elven Boots, multiple varieties  
> Slave Merchant Outfit  
> Skimpy Linen Dress  
> Moonstone Thigh Cuffs


	8. Chapter 8: Dwemer Plunges

The Blackreach expedition met at the start of Frostfall. Apparently word had gotten out that someone was going after Falmer, and the chance to fight with the Dragonborn of legend was enough to entice even more people to their cause. A full twenty people were coming with her to Mzinchaleft, with wagons and carts aplenty. Unlike the last time she came, the bandits were nowhere to be seen. 

“They’ll be back.” Isran spoke up. “Vultures will come to pick over the area and find out if we left corpses.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Aicantar spoke up. “The Falmer will be by far the more dangerous prospect. Some of the guards can remain here to guard the wagons.” 

“Into the depths we go.” Isran grinned. “My men have rings of Night Eye. We can see clearly in the dark. Let us lead.” 

The expedition looked towards her, and Elayne felt slightly self conscious for a moment. It was her choice, after all. She couldn’t afford to look weak. Though the weight on her neck and ankles seemed to challenge that. “I’ll be there with you. I’ve been down once before.” 

Elayne was wearing her elven armor for this. The heeled boots had been questioned by many, but her feet felt oddly familiar with them now. The moonstone spikes had been useful once or twice, though troublesome much of the rest of the time. The dragon priest mask covered her face, keeping her identity safe. She kept her hood up, and managed to get help from Lydia forcing her blue hair into intricate braids and knots to keep it up high upon her head. With her collar, anklets and piercings hidden behind armor and disguised no one could tell she was anything but their hero. 

“It will be curious, then.” Isran grinned, approving. “Grab some food! Get some sleep!” He barked at his people. “We go down in the morning, and the guards staying behind have watch. Since they will cover our backs they deserve an equal reward. Those bandits might come back at any time to foul this up.”

Elayne wasn’t much of a public speaker. She didn’t like grand speeches or shows of grandeur. But she did allow herself to show off and light the bonfire with a dragon shout. The frozen and ice covered wood ignited instantly, the weary crew giving her a back slapping cheer at the sight. 

The Falmer were entirely unprepared for a war party coming down into their zones of control. Elayne clearly remembered the way down, and led the way with Isran and his men towards the gatehouse. Though this time, she saw that there had been some kind of battle there recently. A damaged Dwemer centurion was stalking around, one of its arms destroyed. Dents covered its body, and ten dead Falmer lay arrayed around it. The bodies of bandits also lay around, answering her question of what happened to them. 

“That thing is capable of tearing a man in half with one swipe. We need a plan.” 

Elayne stepped forward. “I can bring it down. I’ll run behind it. Once I do, come in and bash it to pieces.” The Other Dragonborn ran through it’s steam breath without trouble. Not bothering to muffle her steps, Elayne starting clicking her way forward. Running in these shoes was a practiced art, in her opinion. The large automaton twisted, swinging towards her with its one good arm before she rolled, sliding underneath the blow and coming up behind it. It reared, bringing its head down and forcing steam towards her. Her dragon shout hit just as the steam began to tumble, searing her skin but being forced back. Unrelenting force was sometimes one of the more satisfying shouts she had. 

The entire expedition watched as the dwemer centurion came off of its feet, sliding a dozen feet onto its back. Isran’s men soon had it completely broken, and Elayne was rubbing salve into the skin of her arms when he came up to congratulate her. “That was something.” He was grinning. “I’ve never seen someone knock over something that big.”

“That doesn’t always work on dragons.” Elayne admitted, pulling her gloves back on. “But trolls, giants and spiders go flying when I use that. Dragons just get staggered for a moment.” 

“You’re truly something. We would have lost a few men against that and you took no care for your own life out there. Next time.” Isran’s eyes were hard. “Please let someone else take the risk. Losing the Dragonborn would be a cataclysmic failure for all of these people. You said Alduin has returned. I believe you, but that also means that you hired us to keep you safe. So please let us do that. As impressive as you are, please let my people do the dying for you.”

“But I am the one that-”

“No martyrdom for me, please.” He interrupted. “If you die, Skyrim loses. Heroes get spun out by the Aedra to save the world. That’s why I signed up the group.” He noted. “Not because we needed they gold, since there is a war on. Both sides will pay for our blades and courage.”

“You came for me?” Elayne felt a bit touched. 

“I came because the Aedra don’t give us heroes to be thrown away on a fool’s errand. You told us you were coming to Blackreach for something. I’m betting it’s important, so don’t go throwing your life away. Let us do the bleeding.”

“That’s not what a hero does.”

“That’s what a berserk Nord would do. They think their heroes should all lead from the front and just conquer everything.” The dark skinned man chuckled. “Try thinking like a Breton or Mer might. You’ll find they like their heroes to have a modicum of self-preservation.”

“Alright.” Elayne promised. “I promise to take your advice to heart.”

“I appreciate it. Now, this looks like a dead end.” He said, looking around.

“Watch.” Elayne drew out all of the items that she had for Dwemer randomness, the small attunement sphere sliding into place on the small panel next to the stairs. Stone ground together, and then like smooth oil opened into a set of dark stone steps going into the deep. “And now the device.”

That device turned out to be a lift, a moving box that took them even deeper underground. It could only take a few people at a time, and with all the equipment the expedition was taking down here, Isran volunteered his men to take the first wave. “We will clear the area. As soon as we get through, we will start sending the lift back up to get the rest of you. The Dragonborn can take a break, as we just saw her nearly shout a centurion in half.” He seemed to insist. 

Isran did not come back for almost an hour. But when he came back, it was with gear. Three dwemer chests and piles of cogs, struts and soul gems. Seeing those just made Elayne’s nipples ache. “Ladies and gentlemen.” Isran spoke up. “Blackreach is open. And crawling with Falmer.” 

The Expedition had truly begun. Elayne and the others spent days combing parts of Blackreach for valuable items, to the point that even Aicantar and his guards were admitting that there was far too much here to explore in one single journey. But their carts were so fully loaded that the entire expedition had agreed to help guard the caravan on its way back to Markarth. Though they were rolling in riches and items, Elayne had found no evidence of the tower she was supposed to be using to find this Elder Scroll. When it seemed as though the expedition could carry no more, Isran took her aside. “We aren’t leaving.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, we all talked. We aren’t leaving until you do whatever it is you need to do.” His men were smiling in the background, bags filled to bursting with value. “So, let us help.”

Elayne nodded. “I’m looking for a tower. Definitely not part of the city, from my notes. But a tower should hold what I am seeking.”

“Mages.” Isran scoffed. “Always with their towers. Some forgotten knowledge they have?”

“Something like that.” She smiled back. “Seen anything like it?”

“Yes, actually. A massive tower hanging over a lake. This place is so large it even has lakes!” He chuckled. “But it is crawling with Falmer. They haven’t attacked us very much, but they have to be intelligent on some level. They know we are here.”

“We are strong, and have killed dozens of them.”

“Aye,” Isran noted. “But that city has to have hundreds of the beasts. I’ll assemble my men and go help with the tower. We will be with you.”

She might not have needed the help. Only a few Chaurus were out, the Falmer staying quiet. Isran saw some, but they retreated at their approach. More importantly, they found a tower. It hung over the edge of a dark abyss that she couldn’t see the bottom of, with rivers running around it. The mercenaries had their eyes peeled on their surroundings, Elayne’s heels the loudest sounds in the deep. 

“This is a tower.” Isran patted the side of the object when they arrived. “But it’s a long ways back to camp. Do what you need to do, Dragonborn.”

This had to be it. Coming up to the doors, Elayne gave a push. They seemed stubbornly locked shut. Even her spells couldn’t release it. “I could shout it open.” She considered. 

“That would echo through the entire cavern. Or you might shout the tower right off the cliff.” Isran responded. “Let’s try with some weapons.”

Yet the tower resisted them. Steel, Orcish, even Dwarven weapons got bent or damaged trying to get into the door. “It’s not magical.” Elayne noted. “Just locked from the other side.”

“I am not seeing any windows.” Isran noted. “Got any other bright ideas, Dragonborn?”

“Not many.” One plagued her thoughts. _Captured Dreams_ could do it. The other Dragonborn had already been here, and taken the Elder Scroll! He had to have gotten the door open somehow. “But I know one that will work.”

“Use it. We are too far from the camp right now to risk staying here for long.”

Elayne nodded. It had been more than a month since she had last opened the black book. But if this was where the Elder Scroll was sequestered, it was worth it. Lydia stood right next to her, looking down at the wrapped book. “Do you want me to come with you?”

“Yes.” Lydia would understand coming with her on this. “I would.” _Captured Dreams_ unwrapped quickly, the dark binding feeling heavier than it did before. They both placed their hands on it, as Elayne opened the book. 

“First we should be a bit more quiet.” She noted, casting Muffle and Invisibility upon them both. Her magic was near drained by this, but illusion magic was her specialty. She could do it. Then, she began to read the book. The words changed every time, becoming half riddles and promises. “Legends untold,” She could see Isran looking at them, curious. But he was too far away to know what exactly they were doing. Or be dragged into things. “Shadows foretold.” 

Her perception darkened, and the world changed. It was noticeable this time. Mostly due to the massive dragon skeleton next to the doors to the tower. Said doors were bashed open by the dragon’s snout, which looked deformed with its bones. But also nearby were Falmer, picking over some mushrooms and fishing in the water. Closing _Captured Dreams_ , Elayne led Lydia through the broken doorway and inside the tower. 

“That’s one way to open the door.” Lydia whispered. “Dragon.”

“Shh.” Elayne pushed her forwards, into a large foyer. It was unpopulated, but for a small chaurus. The remains of a large tree were here, that seemed to once have acted as a bar keeping the doors shut. Drawing her dwarven sword, she snuck up and plunged it into the chaurus. It died a quiet death, and Lydia moved about the room with practiced care and concern. It looked like Yngvild had, in a way. The other Dragonborn had taken every single item of value from the location. The walls had even been stripped, to the point that she wondered if any expedition that followed him would find anything else.

There were signs that Falmer had been here, but three of their broken axes were enough to show they had trouble. “My thane. A trap!” Lydia whispered, pointing ahead to where an interior room was. It looked like some kind of natural light was coming through. But there were slots in the floor that were barely wide enough for a spear to pass through. She had seen these before in Dwemer ruins, but these were right around the height of someone’s neck. 

“Looks like the other Dragonborn took everything that wasn’t nailed down.” Elayne considered, glancing around. “Seems normal for him.”

“But you have great respect for the dead. The people enjoy that kindness.” Lydia responded. Elayne fiddled with the trap, ducking underneath it and moving into the room. But apparently it was not enough, her high heeled boot pressing down a pressure plate. “Watch!” Lydia hissed, as two prongs popped out of the holes, spraying both her and Lydia with some kind of burst of magic. It shocked something fierce, the lighting bouncing between her and Lydia twice before ending. Elayne slumped against the door, tingling from the magic effect. “Out.” Lydia finished, also slumped against the other side of the door. 

“I can heal you.” Elayne said slowly. “Just give me a minute.” Her magic felt off, and her limbs heavy. The feeling wavered, going away over a little while but leaving her stamina weakened. As she healed Lydia, she could see all around the room. It looked like some kind of reflection pool, but for the light coming through the ceiling. “I’ve never seen a spell effect like that.” Elayne mustered. “But it was almost the same color as a mysticism spell.”

“Well, you’re quite the mage! You’ll be able to figure it out. And the pain stopped.”

“Mysticism isn’t a school of magic that most people know,” She added, worried. “And this world might have different spells! The Dwemer are an ancient race, and this spell might just be unknown to the mages of today!” Lydia didn’t have a response for that. So it was quiet for a minute as they explored the innermost chambers.

“Whatever used to hang from the ceiling was torn out.” Lydia pointed. “It looks like this is some kind of sunlight.”

Elayne nodded, pulling out her small hand mirror. Holding it in the path of the light, she could see it refracted all around the room. The light was hitting different painted phases of the moons and stars. In fact, all of the symbols of the birth signs were in the room. But whatever mechanism that had been here before was gone. She and Lydia were at least able to study a small pedestal that wasn’t taken away, with small dials and switches. She wrote down the exact angles and settings that the pedestal was set to, her notebook scrawling with details. 

“There is another lift here!” Lydia called, excitedly. “It goes up to the surface!” She had been searching the area below the device, and came back with a few bits of mechanism. “It appears to be damaged. The Falmer cannot use it to get to the surface.” 

“The other Dragonborn managed to set up groups of people to keep the Falmer from coming up from Blackreach. Though if he is as powerful as they claim, I don’t understand why he didn’t just destroy all of them when he was down here.”

“Perhaps no one hero is that powerful.” Lydia considered. 

“Ysmir and his companions seemed to do it once.” Elayne stuck out her tongue, as Lydia gave a light chuckle. “I can’t find anything else, no other clues.”

Lydia nodded. “I think our actions have been noticed.” She glanced back to the door, which seemed just as silent as ever. But Elayne had a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach. Studying the darkness, she could see shapes moving past the doorway. Quickly, she brought out _Captured Dreams_ and held Lydia close. When they pressed the glowing rune to return, the world flashed white, the walls and dwemer devices around them changing. It was still dark, but a candlelight spell fixed that. The chambers around them looked whole and unspoiled. The doors were barred shut with pine trees, wedged so tightly against the doors it was no wonder she or Isran couldn’t get them open. 

It felt rather cold, and Elayne shivered, the rings in her nipples swinging freely. Freely? She glanced down, gulping. Not a stitch covered her skin, her armor having disappeared. “Gods, no!” She screeched, opening her pack. A new set of smallclothes covered her quickly, Elayne noting that she was down to only one breastband. Feeling embarrassed, she covered herself with the basics. “Lydia, can you see where my armor went?”

Lydia nodded, staying at least quiet. But Elayne knew she was laughing somehow. Her legs felt quite heavier, now. The price for using the black book glimmered in the light of the spell, two thick bands of moonstone sitting tightly upon her upper thighs. They even felt heavier than they should be, and wouldn’t budge under her hands. 

“I can’t find any evidence of your armor, my thane.” Lydia apologized. “The only thing I found was your dragon priest mask. Though there are remains that aren’t Falmer in here. And a journal.”

Elayne shuddered, looking around. The journal was next to a skeleton, and while Lydia started pulling the room apart for things she could use, Elayne read about this man’s attempt to control a device. Or open it. Shivering once more, she resolved that she needed to at least wear something. The only other armor she had that fit was the light armor she had bought in the other world’s Warmaiden’s. The gloves were smaller, daintier. They didn’t cover the elbows. The cuirass was more of a long dress with woven moonstone fibers in it. It felt heavy enough to be armor, the pauldrons feeling quite functional. She pulled it down over her torso, the near-fabric unfurling over herself. She could bend and roll wearing this, no problem. Elayne was smiling until the last bit of fabric unfurled, coming to stop at the top of her thighs. It had two layers of skirts, with one being a flat section that hung down from the hips and wrapped all the way around. This barely covered her ass. A second skirt layer fell down like two triangles of metallic fabric, hanging down to cover more in between her legs. So it looked very nice on her, and it did fit her gigantic ass as perfectly as Ulfberth had promised. 

But that meant that her new thigh bands were on display! The moonstone circles were inches below the lowest point the hems of the skirts could reach, and the shoulders didn’t allow the armor to drape any further down. Lydia gave a chuckle, watching her try. “I’ve got a few pieces for us to bring home, My thane. I think we’ve earned that much.”

“Of course, Lydia.” Elayne replied, sitting down upon a chest to put on the last pieces of this armor. The pair of spindly spiked heels took minutes to wrap up her calves, but the moonstone and fabric covered her locked anklets. The collar around her neck was hidden, and the piercings were obviously covered. The only things she had received from _Captured Dreams_ that anyone could see was the headband and these new pieces around her thighs. Standing back up, she felt immediately more confident in her ability to move. Her legs were nearly bare, nothing covering them from upper thigh to calf. 

“You are getting very good at walking in those kinds of shoe.” Lydia made conversation, waiting for her to finish lacing them up. “I think I see the place with your elder scroll.”

Elayne debated going to get it immediately. “Let’s let Isran in first. Open this door.” Her dragon priest mask settled back onto her face. The breeze across her bare thighs made her skin prickle as she moved. But the shoes echoed throughout the empty room, and between the two of them they were able to get the doors open. Isran and his men scrambled in, arrows bouncing off of the stone. One man was shaking, the skin of his leg discolored around the arrow buried in it. 

“Get inside! Now!” She yelled, sparing a conjuration spell for the outer doors. The elemental creature from Oblivion barely lasted a second, three arrows perforating it. But the men moved, the doors slammed shut and the tree was shoved back into place.

“Take care of the wounded!” Isran bellowed. “Good timing, Dragonborn.” His eyes roved up and down her form, taking in the new appearance. But she didn’t get any kind of mockery. “I’ve never seen a spell like that.”

“It’s a mysticism spell.” She lied smoothly. “Gets me past locked doors and impassable barriers.”

“This place is not for the living, I feel.” Isran murmured. “Walking through ancient places like this just makes my skin crawl. And those Falmer out there just make it worse.”

“I’ve got good news.” Elayne spoke up. “I found another way out of here.”

“Not past thirty Falmer?” He grinned. “Excellent news to me. Fighting our way back to camp was looking to be too risky. What happened to your armor?” He dared ask, his eyes having been tracing her bare skin the entire conversation.

“Dwemer trap.” She responded. “Disintegrated my armor. Had to wear something I got off a Thalmor as a backup.” 

“It’s unique.” Isran commented politely. “Now, this other way out?”

Elayne stepped into the chamber with light, this time seeing the mechanisms that were supposed to be within the room. Lenses and pieces of glass were all over the device, and some kind of container was in the middle. She strutted her way over to the controls for it, feeling conscious of everyone’s eyes upon her. Pulling out her notebook, she followed the instructions left behind by the other Dragonborn. It looked like she was an expert on Dwemer mechanical devices, as the lenses and lights spun around. The ancient devices squealed, but the light reflected upon the symbols of standing stones and phases of the moon with exactness. Within two minutes, the device seemed to reflect perfectly across a moment in time. The symbol of the Lover was highlighted, she noted with surprise. But the machine came to a stop, the container in the middle rattling as it opened. 

Inside was a solid gold scroll case longer than her torso. “Found it.” She grinned. Her shoes echoed loudly across the floor as Elayne stepped forward, taking the gigantic item from the device. “Alduin, I am coming for you.” She promised. 

“What is that?” Isran asked, looking in awe. 

“An Elder Scroll.” Elayne grinned back at him. “What I need to defeat Alduin.”

“That’s the Dragonborn for you, Isran.” One of the men muttered. “Look at all the gold on that!”

“Shut it.” Isran countered. “The rest of this expedition could have just not mattered but for this moment. We came because the Dragonborn needed something to save the world. She succeeded. You still get paid, but you get the added bonus of being able to tell your children and grandchildren about this moment.”

“Thank you Isran.” Elayne added. “There is another lift to the surface back here. Wherever we end up, we can just walk to Mzinchaleft and help the other part of the expedition pull their things up. We all get what we wanted.”

She was one step closer to defeating Alduin. “Isran, you seem fairly well informed.” She noted. “Any idea where I might find a Daedric artifact?”

Isran’s good mood faded immediately. “What good would you have consorting with those creatures? They are not good for mortals to involve themselves with.” The man’s hands fumbled with an amulet of stendarr, hanging around his neck.

“Alduin is the son of Akatosh.” Elayne explained. “Normal weapons cannot hurt him. Aedra don’t give of their weapons to mortals, but the daedra have.”

“While I don’t believe they are trustworthy forces, I understand your actions.” Isran considered. “You need a way to harm a son of Akatosh.” He seemed to be silent for a minute, watching as his men made their way into the lift to take the wounded out. “I know of one daedric artifact. Or at least part of it. In Dawnstar there is a museum to Mehrunes Dagon. Part of his artifact weapon is there.” Isran looked like a sour taste was in his mouth with the statement. “There are a couple of other places I would recommend, but it has been many years since I was an active vigilant of Stendarr.”

“So they would know more?”

“I’ll mark out on your map where they have a Hall. Carcette is the Keeper of the Vigil here in Skyrim. I don’t think she would refuse you, Dragonborn.” Isran did so, listening as the lift cranked its way back from the surface. “They might know the location of other artifacts. But I do warn you, most vigilants of Stendarr take association with Deadra poorly. Especially those that seek out the artifacts of a daedric prince.”

Elayne had avoided them since taking the Oghma Infinium. Vigilants were not the most understanding of people. And now she was going right into their heart. “What will you do, now that this is over?”

“There is an old fort near Riften that I’ve been pouring money into for the last ten years. Restoring it. I’ve been seeing signs that Vampire attacks have been on the rise for decades, and thought about forming something to deal with it. But the other Vigilants of Stendarr disagreed. So, I go about my own vigil now.” 

“Thank you.” Elayne said, as they were the last ones to board the lift. “You’ve helped me a lot.”

“There are many reasons to fight in the world. Very few times are those reasons so clearly right and just. I think I’ll sleep well tonight for the first time in a long while.” 

“Me too.” Elayne promised. It did feel good to accomplish part of her quest. The lift rattled it’s way to the surface, bright light coming through that for once wasn’t the light of mushroom or spell. High on feelings of joy, she stepped out of the dwemer device. Of course, that was before the cold wind of The Pale struck her bare thighs and legs. “Oh my gods!” She shivered. “Where are we?”

“Hours away from Mzinchaleft. If we start hiking now, we can reach the other expedition before nightfall. Help them finish what was started.” Isran chuckled. “Want a robe?”

“Yes please.” Elayne whispered, wishing she were back underground. Where it was at least warmer. But the light of the sun promised her that she was making progress. The Dragonborn was going to fight for her future! Though she wasn’t able to clearly see what the next price was. She would find out later, once they had gotten home. The heavy golden scroll upon her back was victory enough for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ITEMS ACQUIRED:  
> Iron Collar (Simple)  
> Moonstone Ankle Cuffs  
> Navel Piercing (Unknown Magic Effect)  
> Nipple Piercings (Unknown Magic Effect)  
> Moonstone Headband of Mana Replenishment (Source of Blue Hair)  
> Heeled Elven Boots, multiple varieties  
> Slave Merchant Outfit  
> Skimpy Linen Dress  
> Skimpy Light Elven Armor  
> Moonstone Thigh Cuffs


	9. Chapter 9: Destructive Pieces

The expedition was a wild success. A few people died from the deep poisons of the Falmer. For all the potions and cure spells that they could cast, some men died in their sleep. Slow acting poisons took their lives, and those men and women were buried on the surface. Four people died for riches and glory. Their friends and peers offered their respects, and then moved on with Aicantar’s caravan towards Markarth. Isran and his mercenaries went a different direction south, towards Riften. Their carts too were filled with riches and wealth, and Elayne was sad to see them go. 

The Vigilants were not very helpful, sadly. In the words of their Keeper, Carcette; “If we knew where any of those artifacts were, we would already be taking action upon them.” They did not know of any place to investigate besides Dawnstar. There was a man who had set up a museum to Mehrunes Dagon in the city. Unfortunately, by the time they had arrived it was too late in the evening to meet with him. 

Karita gave them a room, the double bed small and covered in a thin blanket. Exhausted from all of the hiking and travel, she and Lydia passed out immediately. Elayne felt comfortable in the morning after. It was warm, in a way that waking up normally was not. 

“My thane?” Inches from her face was another set of eyes, with red tinted cheeks. Lydia was very close. Too close. Elayne bit her lip, feeling skin to skin contact from her toes to her neck. 

“Why are we naked?!” Elayne squeaked. Not a stitch of clothing was on either of them! Lydia and Elayne separated, starting a mad scramble for smallclothes and gear. 

“All of your hair is blue.” Lydia chuckled, breaking the silence once both of them had basic decency. 

“Nice navel ring.” Elayne countered, looking at the glittering soul gem hanging from the Nord’s belly. “The book is changing you, too.”

“I don’t want you to be alone in your burdens.” Lydia said, drawing her armor into place. “But it disturbs me deeply.”

“Waking up naked disturbs me more.” Elayne responded, truthfully. She had gone to bed with her smalls and breastband on, but had no idea how her clothes were taken off. “I mean, both of us?”

Lydia seemed less bothered by it. “It’s not the first time I’ve woken up naked with someone.” The Nord laughed. “Well, first time with a woman.”

Her housecarl was so much more worldly than her. Elayne had hardly known a kiss, before she gave Belethor that blowjob. Before she had swallowed it all. She gulped, the memory rising with a pleasant heat. “I’m going to go look at that museum.”

“Wear one of your long dresses, please.” Lydia whispered. “You should hide that moonstone as best you can.”

“Are you not joining me?” 

“I need to get my armor repaired, weapons sharpened and restocked on potions. Those Falmer exhausted almost all of our disease and poison relief.” The Nord explained. “You won’t be running off to fight without your weapons and I need to make sure that we are battle ready. Plus, it’s a museum. What could possibly go wrong in a museum?”

Elayne hadn’t worn one of her long dresses in a while, and all of them were sized for Nords of large stature. It didn’t fit right, and her shoulders itched for something that did. She had shoulders that were more graceful, smaller. While it was probably a good idea to cover up as much as she could, Elayne had gotten used to some of the changes in style. Once she had heels on, she felt ready to go. “I think I’ll be quite safe, Lydia. How long do you think it will take at the smithy?”

“Could take all day.” Lydia considered. “The one here in Dawnstar isn’t very big. They don’t have much in stock and spend a lot of their time supplying the Stormcloaks. So I’ll be working on that. Perhaps you want to sell our things to those that will buy them.” Both of their bags were filled with dwemer coinage and loot from Blackreach. Glowing mushrooms, some kind of singing plants and a lot of Falmer supplies stuck out next to the piles of Dwemer weapons and armor. 

“I’ll see what I can sell. Dawnstar isn’t too well off, so we might only get a few things sold.” Elayne said quietly, aware that just through the thin door was an inn full of locals. “We might want to try the court mage.”

Lydia nodded. “I’ll try to sell some of this armor. It’s too bad all those Falmer had gear that no one in their right mind would be interested in.”

“Next expedition I promise will be something more rewarding!” Elayne smiled. “We just need something that can hurt Alduin now.” She considered something. “Though I think that we shouldn’t be carrying an Elder Scroll and  _ Captured Dreams _ . Not together at least.”

“Is that dangerous?” Lydia asked, hefting their bags.

“Both are objects of power. I would say we should hide the Book, but it is more important to us than the scroll.” Elayne corrected herself immediately. “I mean, more immediately useful.”

“I’ll carry the book.” Lydia offered. “You carry the scroll. That way we don’t risk anything.”

Elayne didn’t see anything wrong with that. She left the inn, finding what little trade she could. Even upon the ships in the harbor, she was able to trade for some of the things they had found down in Blackreach. Her pack was lighter, but there would be more to trade as they traveled. She had funded much of the expedition, almost draining all of her gold reserves to nothing to start it. She was back up to five hundred gold, now. But most of the merchants in Dawnstar were not overly eager to part with their gold for what might be in Blackreach. The alchemist had been her best return, eagerly buying all of the mushrooms and plants they had collected in Blackreach. 

Lydia was still not available in the afternoon by the time Elayne had finished finding people willing to buy her gear. So, she went walking around the bay, heading towards the city’s museum. It was the same straw as every other house, but had a gigantic red banner hanging in front of it. Her shoes made the wood creak, and the door opened before she could knock on it. 

The Imperial man’s olive complexion was lined with worry, as he opened the door. “Hello?” 

“I’m here about the Museum.” Elayne insisted. 

“You are the Lady Dragonborn.” The man murmured, staring at her mask. “Of course! You’ll be the first to take the tour of my museum!”

“A museum to a daedric cult?” She smiled. “I’d be happy to.”

The man, Silus Vesuius had collected mythic dawn journals, robes, and scrolls. Rings and other old markers were in glass cases, and each had a story as to how he acquired them. Silus had traveled all over Cyrodil looking for clues to his heritage, wanting it to not be forgotten. He even had a piece of the Mysterium Xarxes, or so he claimed. It apparently was bought by a trader near Bruma and eventually passed to Silus through his travels. He was a good storyteller, of that she was certain. But as all things go, the tour came to an end after an hour of her time. Silus seemed exuberant, excited to share the past.

“This museum stands as a magnificent piece of history.” Elayne bowed. “But I have come for a different purpose.”

“You have?” Silus wondered. “Whatever for?”

“You would be the foremost scholar on all things related to Mehrunes Dagon, correct?” She noted. “Perhaps in this province and if you keep collecting, the world may recognize your status.”

“It is probably true, I know more about Mehrunes Dagon than most.” He admitted. “What is it that you wish to know?”

“I need a way to harm Alduin. He is the son of Akatosh, and I need weapons that can harm him. I need to know where Mehrune’s Razor is.”

“Ah.” Silus said, awkwardly. “I happen to know about that artifact.”

“Well?”

“I know what happened to it. Destroyed, and broken into pieces. Though all of the pieces are near enough, I have not been able to collect them.” He admitted. “Nor do I know what to do if the artifact is brought back together.”

“It’s more of a lead than I had before.” Elayne spoke honestly. “I’d like to help you.” She felt more akin to the Daedra than the Aedra most of the time. It felt right, since she was a hero meant to kill a being that was part of Akatosh. Anyone else would lean towards that which can hurt them as a solution. Just depending upon whatever the ancients used to contain Alduin wasn’t enough. She had to plan for everything, and the other Dragonborn took two daedric artifacts and some kind of weapon called Dragonbane with him. Apparently two of the weapons were shattered. “I don’t think you’ll be in trouble for sharing that with me.”

“There are more than a few people who think otherwise, Lady Dragonborn.” Silus said with a sigh. “But, if you believe it is important to you, I’ll share what I know.” He reached into one of the small glass cases, revealing a false bottom. A book was retrieved, and handed to Elayne. “This is the full balance of where the shards of Mehrunes Razor is and should explain why I could not get a hold of them.”

Elayne thumbed through the small notes. “You didn’t try to steal them?”

“Why would I? Everything I have gotten, I gained fairly. I won’t ruin my life over my heritage. Enough of my ancestors already did that.” Silus made the point. “If I sacrifice my honor to try to prove to people that the Mythic Dawn were a bad influence upon Tamriel, I am no better than those I am trying to keep the world from repeating their mistakes.”

“You’re a good man, Silus. Even if you have an obsession with Daedric cults. I’ll be trying to get a hold of these pieces for my battle against Alduin.” She smiled. “After that? Perhaps your museum can host whatever is left.”

“Whatever is left?” He seemed shocked. 

“It was broken once. Alduin might break it again.” She shrugged. “I’ll take my leave, Silus. Unless you have inside knowledge of other Daedric artifacts I could use.”

“Sorry.” Silus smiled. “Only my one life’s work.” Elayne gave him a wave, making her way back to the inn. Where she found Lydia, sitting in the small room and writing in her journal. 

“My Thane?” She looked up. “You’re smiling!”

“I’ve got a lead.” Elayne grinned. “A Daedric Artifact, but it’s in pieces. One is in Morthal. A second is near Falkreath, in the hands of a bandit.”

“Oh!” Lydia cracked her knuckles. “I do love a good bandit hunt.”

“The last is in the hands of a Hagraven of the Forsworn.” Elayne said, swallowing heavily. “So we will need to stop and see my aunt along the way. I think we can trade with this Drascua for the artifact. But we will need something of value to her.”

“Why not kill the abomination?”

“Lydia!” Elayne hushed. “Not all of the Forsworn are mad or murderers. Many just lost all of their family to Ulfric Stormcloak. They were angry and took action because of that anger. Almost all of them used to live in Markarth or the areas around it. They can be reasoned with, and most don’t want the world to end.” The last sentence was said in an exasperated tone. “I won’t kill Drascua unless I absolutely have to.”

“Fine.” Lydia grumbled. “So we will go and kill some bandits, then?”

“I guess that is one way of putting it.” Elayne responded, sitting on the bed. “I’ve cleaned out all of the merchants in Dawnstar. Even after buying and trading for potions to replace some of what we used.”

“It took all day to get our weapons and armor done.” Lydia responded. “But I sold some of the armor and shields.”

“Let’s get some dinner and hire the carriage for the morning tomorrow. If we pay them a bit more, perhaps we will start early and be on the road less.”

That plan was fine. Everything that evening went well, and Elayne went to sleep dreaming of skies and valleys and little goats running all over the place. But when she woke up, it was to Lydia’s heated face once again. Her nipples were like hot little rocks, rubbing against a much larger Nord body. Both women stared at each other, knowing the other was also perfectly naked. “Lydia?”

“Yes?” She whispered.

“I think we might have a problem.” How else do you refer to what was happening?! Something was taking off their clothes while they slept! “I think we are the ones doing this to ourselves. We must be cursed or something.”

“This is not the way I expected to be a housecarl.” Lydia bemoaned, both women looking again for their clothing and armor in a mad rush. 


	10. Chapter 10: Madwoman of the Reach

The carriage ride from Dawnstar to Morthal was short, mercifully. Elayne told the driver she would only be gone less than an hour, and she kept her word. Jorgen, who had a piece of the artifact, was fairly simple to convince. All she needed to say was that she needed it to kill Alduin, and the man gave it up without a word. Seething mad about something, but Elayne was on her way before he could take his anger out on his woodpile. The last thing she did was go to Jorgen’s wife and buy almost all of the alchemical ingredients she could, and some fresh bread. 

Then it was off to Falkreath. Fighting bandits seemed to excite Lydia, and Elayne shivered under her long dress until the carriage got to warmer lands. They both stayed awake the entire carriage ride, more than a day. Neither wanted to dare sleep in the open. They didn’t know what would happen. So, bleary eyed and tired they crawled into the Dead Man’s Drink Inn, and passed out. 

“We might be cursed.” Lydia whispered into her ear in the morning after. “We can’t keep waking up like this together.” She winked, awakening Elayne into full wakefulness.

The mad scramble for clothing began, but Elayne is fairly sure that she and Lydia were swapping breastbands at this point. She needed more, anyways. She wore a long dress, even though the weather was uncharacteristically warm. “There has to be reason for this.” Elayne mumbled. “Maybe it’s the piercings?”

Lydia watched as Elayne laced up her heels. “Maybe it’s the book.” The housecarl growled. “It’s getting dangerous.”

“It’s helping us!” Elayne insisted. 

“I have a collar around my neck I cannot remove.” Lydia hissed. “I am your housecarl, but the more we use this the greater I fear the consequences. Things of oblivion are not for us mortals to contend with.” She seemed to realize that she was angry, and looked at the floor. “I’ll go see what the blacksmith says about some of these weapons. I’ll be back when I’ve cooled off.” Lydia stopped at the door. “My Thane.” She stomped out, mad. 

Elayne left soon after, trying to sell more of the items they had gained in Blackreach. But eventually she ran out of people with willingness to buy her items, and found her way to the Jarl. He was reading a book, piles of open letters on a small table to his left. None of them appear to be replied to, and Elayne could see the seal of the Imperial Legion sitting on some of the more yellowed pieces of paper.

“The Jarl is busy.” One of the women in the room spoke up, an Altmer. She seemed to stare at the dragon priest mask with respect. “My name is Nenya, Lady Dragonborn. How can I assist you?”

“I had questions about some bandits in the province.” She replied.

“Normally when people say that, I am due for a long conversation about road safety.” Nenya seemed to smile. “Somehow I feel as though your questions are different.”

“There are some orc bandits that may have been at Cracked Tusk Keep for some time.” Elayne tried to keep her voice even. “I was wondering if they might still be there.”

“Oh they are.” Nenya assured. “Five years now, they’ve been squatting there. Their leader prefers to raid Markarth, or the Forsworn. We receive complaints from local miners every year.”

That didn’t reflect well on Jarl Siddgeir. “Is there anything that has been done?”

“We have a reward for their removal. They have killed at least three miners last year alone.” Nenya pulled out a ledger that had listed bounties. One looked to be a dragon, somewhere to the south. “If you remove them, we will pay you handsomely. The Jarl has not been aggressive in pushing for the bounty, as the pay comes from his limited funds.” She said the last quietly. “But your help would be appreciated. The people of the hold will be pleased.”

Elayne nodded. “Can you tell me anything about the bandits?”

“They are all orcs. Kept in line by their leader. They’ve been there long enough to make their own touches to the fort, with their leader in the highest tower. What we know is that he has gotten a large store of mead and alcohol and manages to keep those louts in line using it.” Nenya explained. “That tower of his connects to the mountain above. If you could come from above, you’ll be able to avoid most of the bandits. But the mountain is steep. Especially in those shoes.” 

“I’ll be alright.” Elayne promised. “I’ve been through worse.”

Nenya gave her a bow. “Good luck, then.” 

She found Lydia by the gate, a sour look on her face. “Ready to go fight some bandits?” She asked her housecarl.

“It will be the first thing to make simple sense since Blackreach.” Lydia nodded. They never even used the secret entrance to the fort. Lydia went on a near-rampage. Whatever had her angry, Elayne did not know. The woman was on the warpath, and between the two of them the orcs had no chance. They returned to Falkreath that night covered in the signs of battle. Evidence enough for Nenya, who paid them five hundred coins!

They had more than two thousand septims now! Her bag was very heavy with the coinage. Falkreath had mostly smaller denominations of coin, so the weight was getting rather impressive. By Lydia’s request, they both got separate rooms at the inn. To avoid causing whatever had happened the last time they had gone to sleep in the same room. 

When morning came, it brought no comfort. Elayne shivered awake, seeing that she had again woken up naked. “I think something in the other world cursed us.” It couldn’t have been the book. It was an object of power, but it shouldn’t have been the book. Lydia might think so, but it wasn’t in the nature of Hermaeus Mora to do that. That was more like Sanguine. 

“Where to now, My Thane?” Lydia asked, in a much better mood as the weather started getting overcast. 

“Up the road. We passed a fort along the way. My aunt is one of the leaders of the Forsworn there.” Lydia stiffened. “Don’t be rude, Lydia. They are still people that will die if Alduin wins.”

“I won’t draw my weapon first.” Lydia promised. That was perhaps the best she could expect from the Nord. “I’ll give them a chance.”

Fort Sungard was a looming edifice above the road leading west, into the Reach. As they passed by, it was clear it had been taken over by the Forsworn. No flags were flying, and no bandits were lounging on the walls to demand anything. It just felt too quiet. Elayne took off her mask, not wanting to be associated with her Dragonborn self. Blue hair fluttering around her, she set off down the road wearing her ill-fitting dress. 

“Halt!” A single woman yelled, as they approached the fortress gates. She was wearing a normal outfit, but the marks on her face and body betrayed her as one of the native Bretons of the Reach. “Don’t come any closer.”

“Hello!” Elayne waved. “I’m here to see Gwynabyth.” 

“Gwynabyth?” The woman seemed to stare more deeply at Elayne. “Oh! You’re her niece Elayne! I didn’t recognize the hair. Come on. Welcome to fort Sungard.” She seemed much more cheerful, coming up to welcome them. Through the gaps in her outfit, Elayne could see Forsworn armor beneath it. The bones and furs were a giveaway. “She is in charge here, it’s been a while since we last saw you! Lost Valley hasn’t had fresh potion ingredients in too long!”

“Nice to see you too, Vyctara.” She barely remembered the woman’s name, only remembering now that they were closer. “Where is my aunt?” 

Lydia’s hand was near the pommel of her sword, but relaxed as they were led inside. While the warpaint made everyone look scary, most of the Reachmen were just trying to survive. They knew Elayne, and their smiles were wide. Her Aunt came from the upper parts of the fort, her headdress more ornamental than the others. “Elayne!” She cheered. “I’ve missed you!” Her hug was strong. 

“Aunt Gwynnie!” She said loudly, making the other Forsworn snicker. “I’ve got so much to tell you about!” Her nickname would earn any of them a lightning bolt if they tried to use it. 

“Come on, you can tell me about your life. Who is your friend?” Her aunt was a shrewd woman. “She seems more warlike than your usual type of friend.”

“This is Lydia.” Elayne introduced. “My housecarl.” They were people of the Reach. They knew exactly what it meant to have a housecarl. A sworn sword. It meant you were a landed noble of some part of Skyrim. There was a collective glance around by the other Bretons. “I became a Thane for one of Skyrim’s Holds.”

“How?” Aunt Gwynabyth looked betrayed. “Why would you do that to us?!”

“Stop!” Elayne said. “It wasn’t because I chose it.” She stepped over towards a clear spot, before looking up at the mountain. Drawing in a deep breath, she released it into a Shout. Fire poured out of her, scarring the mountain and burning a few weeds upon the stones. But the fire did not spread further. It was too hot for that, and not sustained enough to catch anything else on fire. “I’m some Nordic hero meant to stop the dragons, Auntie. They made me a Thane of Whiterun for that.”

Instead of looking appalled or insulted, the older woman looked intrigued. “Well? The Nords can’t say we aren’t meant to be here, too. The Reach produced a Nordic hero! The Forsworn are not forgotten by the Divines.” The latter statement was for the rest of the people here, who looked suspicious even with the display. “Come inside, dear. We are just cleaning this fort up so that we can house women and children when the snows come. The tents over at Lost Valley won’t keep us warm when the snow comes.”

The Forsworn did this during the winter. They would quietly inhabit a ruin or location they could keep their people warm within, and leave as little evidence of their staying there as they could. Once spring came, they would move out. Elayne and Lydia followed her into a central space, where a cookfire burned merrily. Dusty crates and old pieces of furniture were around it. “Sorry for not telling you, Auntie.” 

“I was worried when I didn’t hear from you for a long time. Thought you might have been caught by some war party.” Her face was like leather from spending so much time outside. Age lines bent as she smiled. “I was going to tell you to come and settle down this winter. You’ve got fine hips for bearing children, and I know a few men who will treat you right.” The smile slipped a little when she noticed something glittering near Elayne’s feet. “What are you doing in those shoes?”

“Ah.” She felt some color in her cheeks. “It’s a long story, Auntie. Perhaps you should listen a while.” 

“Your Aunt Gwynabyth can make some juniper berry tarts while you share it all.” Lydia perked up at that. The woman had a sweet tooth. “It’s been almost three months since we saw you last! I bet you have so much to tell me!”

Elayne shared with her Auntie everything since Helgen. Well, perhaps not giving Belethor a blowjob, but nearly everything. The book, the elder scroll, and everything else. She waited until the end, taking out a small journal and tallying her thoughts. Her Forsworn bones and furs rattled as she finally sat down after the long tale, and a platter of food was set before them. “So, you are using a Daedric artifact to step between this world and another, with a different Dragonborn. The daedra demands a price from you whenever you use it, but hasn’t explained what happened to others who have used the book.” She noted another thing in her small journal. “While dangerous, it sounds like this other world has a lot less threats, or dangers ever since the other Dragonborn saved the world.”

“We don’t know how he did some of the things he did.” Lydia pointed out. “The book only seems to allow us to be in the world for a short time.”

“I was stuck there for days.” Elayne reminded Lydia. 

“Days?” Lydia blinked. “It only took a few hours to solve that riddle and get back to you.”

“Time flows differently.” Gwynabyth noted. “How curious. I have a thought about this other world. You pay one price for your journey. But that journey seems to reward someone with your soft heart very little. From what I can tell of this other hero, he doesn’t seem the scrupulous sort. Dedicated to gold rather than glory or song.” 

“People speak highly of him!”

“We spoke highly of Ulfric and his militia, too.” She pointed out. “People still sing praises for great men good or ill.” 

“So you are saying he might be evil?”

“Hah!” Gwynabyth laughed. “Of course he could be! Good and evil are poor descriptions of people! Look at us and Markarth. I grew up in the richest part of that city, and was driven out as an adult. Was that evil? I felt it justified my actions with the Forsworn. Most of us simply want what was once ours to be returned. Your mother was raised in that house! And now some Silver-blood sleeps in a bed that your grandmother’s grandmother bore her children on.” She threw her arms up, the bones rattling on her wrist guards. “What happened to us was unfair, but it is not evil. It certainly wasn’t good, but it wasn’t evil. Stop letting your mind wander into Nordic thoughts!” She said forcefully. “This other Dragonborn doesn’t have your kind soul. Or perhaps he lacks your concern for others. Let an ego grow enough and good and evil stop mattering.”

“We aren’t here to discuss the other one’s ethics.” Lydia pointed out. “What idea did you have?”

“This other world seems like the question of the Forsworn and their future has been reached.” She notes. “I have a request of you, and an offer. You want to get enough power to convince Drascua to give you a piece of a daedric artifact. She won’t part with it for the world, Elayne. That’s how those Hagravens are. Cunning and avaricious bitches. If you want it, you’ll have to steal it or fight her for it.” 

“Sounds like fun.”

“Drascua has only a few followers and no Briarhearts.” Gwynabyth informed them. “So you could probably take her. If, of course you are a real hero.”

“Auntie.” Elayne warned. “I’m paying a hefty price to become one.”

“And your people won’t forget it. I have a cunning plan.” She winked. “I’m going to mark down all of our sanctuaries and secret caches. This other world has already had their great hero be of use to them. I don’t believe in luck. Perhaps in fate, but not luck. This other world will have supplies and weapons you can use here. To trade for things here. Potions and poisons.” Gwynabyth stopped, holding up a hand. “Enchanted staves are what we do best. We don’t have much in the way of smithies or permanent blacksmiths. But we do enchant weapons and gear.”

“So you want me to steal from the Forsworn in the other world?”

“Your little heart is too good, Elayne.” Her aunt chided. “For once in your life take what belongs to you. A Breton hero would take what they need at the cost of all other’s needs. This other world is something you take information from without paying for it besides the book’s price? Then fully take advantage of it. I’ll open the book here. Tonight I’ll run to Lost Valley. I’ve got to deliver some of these alchemical ingredients, anyways. It’s safest to travel the Reach at night.” 

“You’ll use the book?”

“You and your housecarl are going with me. And then taking every single thing of value from here to Lost Valley!” Gwynabyth smiled a predatory grin. She wasn’t a Forsworn shaman for nothing. “If your notes are accurate, I’ll open the book and see you in a few days. And you’ll be loaded with enough gold and gems to fund any kind of need! Armor, weapons, armies! You take what you need and you find any advantage you can get!”

“I’m not sure I agree with this plan.” Lydia considered. “That book takes a heavy price!”

“We don’t know for sure if you’ll be able to meet with us on the other side.”

“I might have my own motives.” Gwynabyth admitted. “I want to know what happened to the Reach in the other world. Knowledge is the only way we can win, and the Forsworn only have one leader that can unite us. Our King is alive somewhere, and as far as we know his descendants are dead.” 

“So you want me to find out what happened?”

“I do.” She nodded. “Use this book this one time, for me. If you really are the hero you are supposed to be, fate will spin you back to us. And we will have given you all the supplies and powers that you need. Perhaps, if you can help us we can even give you something better.” Gwynabyth brightened. “If the Forsworn can get settled enough, we can help you fight the Dragons!”

It was a very nice offer, but Elayne wasn’t feeling perfectly happy about it. “I still need other ways to harm Alduin!”

“Other Daedric artifacts?” Her aunt seemed a bit pale at the thought.

“And a blade called Dragonbane.” She noted. “But I don’t know what that looks like.”

“Most of the Forsworn clans worship a daedra.” Gwynabyth noted with care. 

“None of you worship the divines?” Lydia blurted out.

“Watch your tongue, Nord.” Her aunt said with vigor. “The divines have never smiled upon our people. We worship Hircine, Namira, Molag Bal and even Mehrunes Dagon.” 

“But he invaded Tamriel!”

“So do all of the Daedra.” Elayne countered, trying to calm things down. “But in the Reach they believe that the torment and pain that are caused are things to be overcome. Reasons to fight on when others might be weak and stand down. The Forsworn don’t see the Daedra like the Mythic Dawn cult ever did.”

Lydia didn’t like it, but she pursed her lips. “You are my Thane.” 

“I am not the most knowledgeable about Daedra. But I do know of those who are. At Lost Valley I will speak with the elders and find out if they know the location of any other artifacts. Brave we might be, but if we had any champions of the daedra the clan would never admit it.” Her aunt seemed concerned. “I am sure that if you find out what you can in the other world, but more importantly take everything you can carry. And then take more. Get every single object and powerful item you can find over there, and you’ll have what the other Dragonborn worked so long for. Just without as much suffering.”

“Give Lydia and I a few minutes to talk about it.” Elayne offered, standing up and heading for one of the barracks rooms. Her shoes echoed loudly across the stone of the old fort, Lydia’s heavy footfalls concealed behind her own. She could easily convince her aunt to part with another shoe out here, but for some reason Elayne liked whatever these shoes did to her feet. Her ankles still hurt sometimes, but somehow she felt they were worth it. “I want your opinion.” She whispered, once they were in the old barracks.

“You already seem to have made a decision.” Lydia said sourly. “You want to use the book.”

“My aunt isn’t telling us something. I think she knows more than she is letting on.” 

“Then why isn’t she telling us?” Lydia countered. “You’re family!”

“Her mother is one of Lost Valley’s Hagravens. My grandmother is a Hagraven. Please don’t tell anyone.” Elayne whispered. She barely accepted it at times. “And I think Gwynabyth has to make a deal with her for my sake. That’s why she wants powerful items.” 

“Then they might know where more artifacts are?”

“Many of the Hagravens are as immortal as Mer. If there are any who would know or remember, they have long lives and longer memories. I think there are a few who have been around since the Second era. Though they are jealously guarded by the Forsworn.”

“And what about Drascua?” Lydia whispered.

“I don’t know. I barely ever spoke to any of them, and they want me to be something I am not.” Elayne muttered. “A spy for their cause, and if I am the Dragonborn it’s only a matter of time before they ask me to do something for them.”

“So that’s a foregone conclusion?” Lydia considered. “By showing them your status as Dragonborn, you’ve just gotten involved with the Reach’s rebellion?”

“My hair is blue, Lydia! I can’t hide that with magic, ink or oils right now. So yes, I have to show them what I am! I can’t learn magic from the College of Winterhold, and there are few people who can teach me more. Court mages can show you the basics, but as I get better and better the teachers become few in number. The Forsworn embrace magic, and I can learn from them. We just need to find a way to leverage the Hagravens.”

“The book is your answer, isn’t it.”

“It’s damned useful!”

“We are going to trust your Forsworn aunt with this book, the only way back and forth between our world and this other one. Price or not, I think that’s a bad idea!”

“Lydia, how hard is it to trust her?”

“My parents died fighting in the Markarth incident.” Lydia said coldly. “I was raised in the guard without them. So, for me? I find trusting any of them very difficult.”

“But you can trust me, can’t you?”

“You aren’t afraid of anything.” Lydia admitted. “Dragons, Dremora and Daedra don’t even worry you. But I do agree with your aunt on one thing. You are too kind of heart. Even those bandits back at Cracked Tusk, we took the time to place enough gold on each body for the burial rights. You won’t take more than you feel is necessary, or look for profit anywhere.” She grumbles. “That’s the reason you’re always scraping for septims.”

“But it always works out.” Elayne said, feeling a bit attacked. “We always win in the end.”

“Tell that to the other world’s Lydia!” Her housecarl bellowed at full volume. “She died for her Dragonborn!”

Elayne didn’t know what to say. It was true. “But I don’t want you to give your life for me!”

“Every day we have is a gift from Akatosh.” Lydia seemed to remember from somewhere. “Every breath a gift from Kyne. So long as my blade is yours, I will treasure those moments. I am your housecarl. My life is and ever shall be forfeit to the needs of yours. That doesn’t mean I will throw that life away.”

“You think I am doing that with _Captured Dreams_ , don’t you.” It wasn’t a question.

“I think we are wasting time chasing another world while our own has all of the answers you already seek! We are paying a price for knowledge we could earn fairly.”

“The other Dragonborn took three years of adventuring before Belethor said he saved Skyrim from all of its enemies!” Elayne countered. “I’ve known I am the Dragonborn for two months! Most of that was spent running around for the Greybeards! If this can save people faster, then so be it! That world has answers I seek, and there will be ways we can benefit.”

“I,” Lydia seemed torn. “I accept your reasons for using the book. To stop others from suffering and dying at the hands of the Dragons. But if we are going to trust your aunt, I want some form of guarantee.”

“She taught me everything about Skyrim, Lydia. Fighting. The way I fight and the way I do things, she taught me. How to live off the land, when to fight and when not to fight? You’ve had that guarantee all along.”

Lydia paced along the room. She seemed to put a lot of thought into it, judging by how often she kicked a bucket from one wall to another. “Only if you promise me that you will take anything of value you can in the other world.” 

Elayne blinked. “What kind of promise is that?”

“I know you. You have a good soul. So while we are in the other world, when we use that book, I want you to treat it as a life or death situation. You take any advantage you can, and we steal anything that can hold value in this world. If you promise to do that, I’ll go with you. And,” She skewed her face. “Trust your aunt with the Elder Scroll and the Black Book.”

Elayne gave Lydia a hug, which the Nord accepted. “Thank you, Lydia.”

“You are very welcome. I thank you for wanting my opinion. A more brutish Thane would simply expect obedience.” When the hug broke both women returned to the main room, where Gwynabyth waited with some wine. 

“So? What’s your plan?” The Forsworn shaman asked them. 

“We accept your help.” Elayne said. “But you’ll have to carry some extra weight on your hike. I want to carry as much as I can in the other world.”

“Anything to help you, Elayne.” She nodded. “You’re a hero, but you’re also a woman of the Reach. Though we are a fractured and tribal people, we protect our own. Especially when someone rises above the normal riff raff and does more than rattle some bones and obsidian together.” The older woman smiled, her age lines pulling across her cheeks. “Now, give me everything you need me to carry, and I’ll send you out from one of the nearby outcroppings.”

Lydia handed over as much of their loot and supplies as she could. Until their bags were down to food supplies, emergency potions and spare clothing. All three of them went back towards the road, finding a gentle outcropping with a view of the area. “I’m going to have to get two people to carry all this with me.” Gwynabyth smiled. “Alright, Elayne. Show me what you’ve got.” The Elder Scroll was left in a chest back in the fort to keep it away from _Captured Dreams_.

Lydia held onto one arm, and Gwynabyth the other. _Captured Dreams_ unrolled from its wrapping, the black binding sucking in the daylight. Elayne opened it, the page only left with one single line. “The Library of Epigraph carries its own currency.” 

The world swirled around them, a few details changing around them. The grass was different, and there was a new building on the horizon. It looked large, almost like a village unto itself. The fort behind them was stationed with Imperial soldiers and flags. It looked clean, and well taken care of. Gwynabyth stumbled slightly, unused to the feeling. 

“This doesn’t appear different.” She murmured. “Other than the soldiers inhabiting the fort. I’ve told both of you where to find all of the secret caches from here to Cradle Stone tower. Take as much as you can carry, and especially grab the war staves. They don’t weigh very much, but they will impress the Hagravens. Take from that village, up there! Just stop fooling around with these visits to this world. Take what you need. Take what doesn’t belong to you. Or else this world will suffer from the wasted effort.” Gwynabyth took the Black Book. “I’ll see the both of you in three days at my tent in Lost Valley. Meet me there. It hardly ever moves, even though the seasons change. If you’ve forgotten, it is right next to the old alchemy structure that the ruin has.” The woman grinned. “I’ll be there. You both get a move on.” 

“We’re putting a lot of trust in you.” Lydia murmured. “Please don’t let us down.”

“I’ve been a Forsworn for twenty years, housecarl.” That was better than Nord. “I can get through those mountains without trouble tonight. You just use that brain of yours and help Elayne get every ounce of value she can from her time here. Those Imperials are already giving me chills. They are actively patrolling, which can’t be good. Keep off the road. Go over the mountain.” Her hands pointed to the hills nearby. “There is a goat trail up that mountain, and past that village. Stay low, stay out of sight. And steal any books that seem new or suspicious!” The older woman grinned. “Don’t die out there, Elayne.”

“You too, Auntie Gwynnie!” Elayne whispered, starting to walk. Lydia sighed, laughing once they were out of earshot. 

“Gwynnie?” She asked, chuckling.

“She liked to spoil me as a child. Anyone else would take a lightning bolt to the face if they tried to call her that.” Elayne laughed along with her. “Let’s make this trip count.” For some reason, her collar felt heavier as she said that.


	11. Chapter 11: Homes and Housewives

The hike through the hills was made harder by Elayne’s shoes, more than the difficulty of the hike. Years of Forsworn feet had hardened the trail, but she spent more time on her hands and toes with the angle of the hike. By the time they got to the other side of the valley, Fort Sungard sat across the way with the late afternoon sun making it appear orange. There were small glittering people among that, at least twenty legionaries moving amongst the old stones. 

“That was a nice hike.” Lydia smirked, eyeing the way that Elayne sat on a rock and rubbed her feet. 

“This village hopefully will have some books.” Elayne still felt slightly uncomfortable at the thought of stealing from other people. 

“That village is one single building.” Lydia pointed out, crouching on top of a boulder to take a better look. “A very large one, at least.”

After a few minutes to catch their breath, both women approached the single building. It had stables, at least on one side. Another had a full blacksmithing station, with many stones and molds in storage containers. There was a large name carved into the archway above the door. “Hendraheim?” She read. “I’ve never heard of such a place.”

“That’s the symbol of the Imperial dragon on the door!” Elayne pointed out. “But the weapons behind it aren’t something I recognize.” It was an Imperial dragon, but the weapons flanking it were some kind of dunmeri style of blades. “And it’s locked!” The lock was some massive iron construction. It had dragon language on it, and wrapped around both handles and the reinforced steel bands of the door. 

“Well, let me just,” Lydia gave a swing with her dwarven warhammer, but the metal just bounced, the object enchanted somehow. “Okay, it’s very locked.”

“Bex.” Elayne read. “That sounds like a shout…” She cleared her throat, the collar beneath her clothing rattling against her skin. “Bex!” She tried, her voice echoing against the doorframe. Like a flower unfolding to the sun, the lock opened. “A dragonshout lock! That’s the most interesting type I’ve ever seen!”

“My thane. Who would have such a thing?” Lydia asked, a large grin on her face.

“The other Dragonborn!” She grinned too, smiling as each grabbed a door and pulled them open. This Hendaheim Hall seemed to be filled with chests, armor stands, and piles of gear. At the forefront was a single armorstand, with a very short dress upon it. The fabric was an inky black, with a white ruffled underskirt. Minimal sleeves and maximum cleavage was designed to be shown with the outfit, along with a beautiful sword laid at its feet. A small plaque was right below it, and Elayne wandered forward to read it. 

“My thane!” Lydia called, in warning. Elayne looked down, the wood of the floor lighting up in an arcane circle. It flashed, and she felt herself fall to the floor as the trap seemed to drain all of her mana and stamina. Her eyes fluttered, hearing Lydia also hit the floor hard. The Nord’s face was slumped in sleep, completely taken out by the trap. But she was still moving, using one hand to remove her boot. 

“That’s good to know…” Elayne murmured, the spell taking effect upon her as well. They were the ones removing their own clothes! That meant that they were cursed, not being followed by spirits or worse. Elayne’s forehead hit the ground, and she blacked out. 

  
  


When she came to, she wasn’t naked. That was a welcome surprise! Of course, she did not expect the outfit, either. The tight black dress held to her form so well that her piercings were reflected on the outside of the dress. Looking up, she could see that the statue she had seen coming in was now devoid of outfit, and she stood up unsteadily to look around more closely. The black dress fluttered, the slightest motion enough to send the skirts and white ruffled underskirt swaying. Tight black heels clicked as she stood up, the ankle straps looking large and extremely tough. 

“What did we get hit with?” She wondered aloud, looking around. Lydia was on the ground near her, wearing a duplicate outfit. She would be angry about that for certain, and so Elayne decided to just let her wake up without any assistance. A simple Muffle spell, and she could move around without a sound. “What kind of outfit is this?” That was the real question. Not a stitch was on her body other than this dress and heels. Her other clothes were not on the floor, but stacked at the top of her bag and left at the foot of the armor stand she had first seen this dress on. Now at least, she could read the plaque. 

‘In memory of Eola, my madwoman of the reach. You deserved better from life. A good friend, an excellent maid, and an anal queen in bed.’ Elayne blushed at the last. This was a maid’s dress! She moved to take it off, but found that it was somehow locked upon her. A belt wrapped around the tightest part of her waist, and was locked. The sleeves were capped off at her biceps, which also had stiff locked bands. All of the keyholes were on the back, and the most she could do was know their location. She couldn’t get an angle on being able to pick them. To reach the lock around her waist, she would need to lift her skirts all the way up in back, one hand holding the pile of fluffy fabric when the other tried to pick the lock. It was frustratingly impossible for her to remove. 

It tickled her nipples mercilessly, and the skirts seemed to just flutter from only one single step. Elayne realized that the neckline could easily be pulled down, leaving her tiny breasts on display. Tempting for a moment, she shook her head and walked around the building. There was only one entrance, which from this side seemed to be locked once again. The building had a small alchemical area, and an arcane enchanter right across from it. Chests and storage containers were all over the place, and out of curiosity she opened one. Inside were one item, and one item only. The chest was filled to the brim with Forsworn armor. Bloodied and damaged, all. Dozens of Forsworn must have died to fill this chest!

She moved to the next, and the one after. Every single chest was filled to bursting with the remnants of Forsworn armor. Elayne’s mind swam, skirts a flutter as she tried to count how many people died to make that possible. Her answer wasn’t a comforting one. At least four hundred Forsworn worth of armor was kept in these chests. The bone and leather was kept almost as a trophy to it all. Shuddering, she shut each of the open chests and went to the small bedroom area. The fireplaces were cold and the cookfire dark. No one had been here in quite some time. Her heels made tracks in the dust, as she stepped over to the living space. 

Only a few books were here, one of which was a journal. Eola’s journal. Elayne read it, but soon realized Eola was a hard one to read. Her handwriting was tough, and complicated. She liked to write notes in the margins. The first pages seemed to document meeting the Dragonborn.  _ He’s really something. Brought us one of those fussy Khajit to consume. Their flesh tasted exquisite. Namira was honored in it. He has asked me to be at his side when he calls. I plan to say yes. _ Elayne could feel her nipples drag against the dress as she turned the page, looking at the open admission of the daedra worshipper. 

Her ass hit the large bed, sending a wave of dusty particles into the air. The fluffy skirt didn’t even bother staying around her thighs, riding up enough that her skin was in contact with the dusty blankets.  _ The Dragonborn has asked if I might accompany him throughout Markarth and the Reach. He says that between the two of us, we can eat and consume every single Forsworn we come across. They will pay for what they did to my family. The Dragonborn has some unpronounceable name I can’t get right. So we made pet names for each other. He calls me Peaches. I call him Stick. The names fit together like we do. _ A little note was made in the margin, about something called  _ Namira’s Ring Lies _ . 

“Lies where?” Elayne wondered. As she turned the page, this one just documented numbers and dates. Three here, four there. It looked like the numbers were adding up to dozens, until Elayne realized that there were thirty pages of this. Hundreds of numbers, along with the day associated. Her stomach rolled when she realized what those numbers meant. Dead Forsworn. And the chests here were full of that evidence. Elayne flipped through the rest of these pages with little interest, trying to find something more than a tally of the dead. She found it near the end of the book. 

_ Stick says we are running out of Reachmen to find and kill. Between Silver-blood’s bounty and our private war, we are running out of good tasting meat. But I still haven’t tasted the one meal I truly want. The one who really needs to die for the cause. Madanach must die. Stick says that he might be able to find him, but only if I accept his collar. Become his permanent bitch. He hasn’t let me cut my hair, and keeps controlling the food we eat. He wants my ass bigger. Well. He’s damn impressive in bed. I might accept being his bitch sometimes, but all the time? _ The entry ended there. 

Elayne flipped the page. It was almost at the end of the book. Her hands thumbed the iron collar around her own neck.  _ Madanach tastes like ass and regret. We chased him down almost to High Rock. He had a few followers left. They were all hard, and I was heavily wounded. I’ve lost some toes, and it looks like I won’t be able to run around as much anymore. So. It didn’t take much to decide after that. I’m young, sure. But I lost my eye as a child. Lost an ear to Thonar. Now Madanach took my big toes. He took both of them. I can barely pivot around anymore, except that Stick made me some pretty shoes. Sure, I finally have to wear some heels like a prissy bitch, but it can compensate for my missing toe.  _ There was a long gap towards the end of the page.  _ He let me hold the collar tonight. Decide if I wanted it. Left a custom designed copy of his own Stick for me to ride all night, too. _

There was one last entry.  _ I’m wearing it. I’m actually wearing it! I can barely talk, it’s so exciting! I rode his fake Stick all night long. But I can’t breath. Something’s wrong. I think Madanach poisoned himself. He knew I would do it. He knew I’d eat him. Well, fine. I don’t care if I die, knowing I ended the Forsworn. I’ll die his bitch. I’m wearing the collar. Even the sexy little dress he put out for me. I put your Stick in my drawer. Thanks for everything, Shashev. I would’ve been happy to live, but somehow this fits me better. So this one last night, I’m yours. Goodbye. _ Elayne set the journal down, feeling extremely awkward. This was the dress that Eola died in. This might have been the bed she died in. 

She stood up, unsteady on her shoes. The room was the one place that was personalized. That was how she saw it. Like a trophy on the top of the armoire, there sat the collar that she had worn. It was huge, and made from red tinted Ebonite. All of it made for the neck of a Breton. One very much like herself. It went from the underside of the chin all the way to the shoulders, molded to fit a very specific person. Her thumb caressed her neck, the slim iron seeming simple in comparison. Biting her lip, she put the journal in her bag. There were very few other books here, other than a few cookbooks. Those, Elayne avoided. The dresser was nice, and full of a few clothes. Remembering her aunt’s words, she took all of the smallclothes. She was running out, at the rate that  _ Captured Dreams _ kept taking them away. 

The bottom drawer seemed to be filled with jewelry. There was a gold diamond necklace in that drawer, she could already see the shine of it. Elayne took it all, chewing her tongue as she felt guilty. She was stealing from the dead! But on the other hand, it was someone that had most likely killed her Aunt Gwynabyth in this world! Someone with plenty of blood on their hands! Still, she felt extremely uncomfortable as she removed all of the items from the drawer. Oddly, not a single gold septim was in the house. Normally people let a few roll around, but here it seemed that every single piece of gold had been taken. The other drawers seemed to have clothing, of which she dared to look at one outfit. “Ew! I’d look like a cultist.” It was black, a little dress covered in daedric symbols matching death and suffering. She stopped looking in the clothing, instead digging and pawing through the bedside tables. Elayne found a collection of teeth, which were immediately dropped. But next to that was a leather wrapped bundle that seemed to take up half the storage space. 

The leather wrapping was soft, and came undone in her hands smoothly. Inside was a soul gem, but it looked like it had been carefully ground and cut to resemble something much more phallic. The soul gem was a deep purple, and had thin bands of Ebonite running through it. The bottom had small lettering, labeling this as ‘Stick’. Elayne felt heat rush through her cheeks, realizing exactly what this was from the journals before. This was what Eola had been using! Elayne leaned around the corner, and could see Lydia still asleep over by the trap. Judging by the dust, no one else had been here in months. She chewed her lip, thinking about the likelihood of being disturbed. It seemed highly unlikely.

Elayne stepped back over to the bed, looking it over. Well, she was dressed as a maid. The thought brought a cackle as she went to the cupboards in the room and changed the hay and animal skins to ones that weren’t covered in dust. Her skirt kept flipping around as she moved, the underskirt ghosting touches at the bottom of her ass. Now that the bed was made, she felt more comfortable sitting upon it. As she sat down, the troublesome skirts drew back so that only skin was touching the bed. Then she faced the aforementioned Stick. She shouldn’t be afraid of a piece of crystal and ebony, and yet here she was. Afraid. “Bigger than Belethor.” Or her memory supplied. Wrapping her hands around it, it took both to hold the object. She felt almost ashamed, just holding the damning thing. 

“What in Oblivion!” Lydia’s roar carried through the entire house. “Elayne!” She bellowed. 

“Over here!” She shoved the giant sex toy underneath one of the feather down plllows. Standing, she could hear the thunderous stomps and another crash as the Nord cursed. Lydia came around the corner, fluttery skirts akimbo and rolling along the ground. She slid to a stop against the doorframe, bracing herself with the heeled shoes. “Lydia? Are you okay?”

“I tripped.” The Housecarl explained. “These shoes are locked on.”

“They are?” She hadn’t checked. “I just know the dress is.” 

“This thing is locked on me?!” Lydia looked horrified. “What kind of trap did we fall into?”

Elayne reached over and pulled Lydia’s skirt lower. “You’re flashing the world, Lydia. I have a few answers about that, however.” She sat back down on the bed. “I found out what is causing us to wake up naked. I think I also figured out the trap.”

Lydia sat down, her skirt also refusing to lie low enough to cover herself. On Elayne the maid dress looked fitting, tight and comfortable. On the Nord it looked ill fitting, not covering enough. The skirt was even more ridiculous. “It’s not easy to get out, I take it?”

“I think it will knock us out if we try to get through the front door. And as we saw from the outside, there is only one way in.” Elayne splayed out her hands. “I think we’re cursed, too. That Dwemer trap we went through in Blackreach. It’s the only thing that makes sense. I watched you strip naked, once the trap got you. We are the ones taking off our things. It’s not a conscious effort.”

“And the outfit and murder shoes?” 

“That one I don’t actually know. I think the trap was well designed enough to handle it.” Elayne shrugged. “But it’s locked around the waist and our arms. We could cut off some of it, but it’s going to take some lockpicking to get off. I’ve found no keys or lockpicks throughout the entire house. And no coinage for that matter.”

“Odd, for a house.”

“They’ve got enough Forsworn armor in here to cover an army. All of it covered in its owners blood.” Lydia frowned, seeing what that meant. “I’ve got a journal from the person that killed them.”

“It’s the other Dragonborn, isn’t it.” Lydia guessed smoothly. “He’s committing genocide?”

“Yes.” The Forsworn died here, in this world. “He killed and then ate all of them.”

“He ate them?” Lydia looked horrified. 

“He and a woman named Eola. I’m wearing her dress.” Elayne clenched the fluffy skirt. “And I stole her jewelry.”

“Good.” Lydia gave a look at her shoes, as if she didn’t trust them. “I bet we can carve our way out of here. Mages don’t usually plan around stupid ideas like that. Though I haven’t found my bag.”

“It’s by the front armor rack.” Elayne remembered. “Want me to get it?”

Lydia took a long moment to think about it. “In this moment, yes. Even if I can’t walk in these shoes, I can hack apart a wall.”

Elayne nodded. They found out that the windows were all magically resistant to damage. Even a dragon shout didn’t manage to damage them. But the wood and stone? Well, that started breaking. But as all things do, people get tired. A few stones were damaged, and Lydia was starting to bend the haft of her warhammer. She slumped onto the bed, heaving. “Give me,” She spat. “A few hours and I shall break out of here.” She patted the animal furs. “You made the bed?” She seemed surprised.

“It seemed like it might be helpful. I’ve been reading the books and looking for clues into the other Dragonborn.”

“Find out where he lives?” Lydia joked, setting her warhammer against one of the four posters of the bed. 

“He was sleeping with Eola.” She decided to inform Lydia. 

“As a lover, or was it just a winter fling?”

“It was serious.” She nodded. “Judging from the book, they were sleeping together for months. While they were killing the Forsworn.”

“So this place was theirs?” Lydia was bemused. “I’m glad you changed the sheets. Did you check more than the main floor?”

“You think there is more? I didn’t see a tower.”

“Nords like to dig. Through ice and stone and time. No matter where we are, we like to have basements.”

“Except Breezehome.” Elayne pointed out. 

“That was designed by an Imperial!” Lydia retorted, her breasts heaving in the tight dress. “That isn’t a Nord’s house!”

“So you don’t like Breezehome?”

“Don’t make me answer that.” 

“This place has a basement. It’s a Nordic building.” Elayne repeated. “So shall we go find it?”

Lydia needed to be taught how to walk in them, but Elayne was an expert! And certainly enough, there was a basement. The stairs were old stone, and both women had to lean against one another to get Lydia down them. “I feel like a deer on ice!” Lydia murmured, as they reached the bottom. It was a single wide chamber, with support structure running along the room in two lines. On the left side, a daedric shrine had been added. It looked like a predatory insect, but feminine. It loomed over a table, upon which a body lay. Enchanted Forsworn armor was upon it, but the flesh looked to be carved off of it. The face was left in a mummified state of agony, and Elayne gulped in discomfort. The man’s personal items lay around him, as if celebrating him. 

“I don’t like this.” Lydia said, looking at torture equipment lining the right wall, and some form of dungeon established. “This is a dark place.”

“It’s a Daedric shrine, Lydia. You rarely find them in nice places.” Elayne felt the need to correct her. “Hold onto that post. I’m going to check it out.” 

A candlelight spell illuminated the chamber better. The shrine of Namira was clearly active, the feeling of Oblivion around it. A heavy knife was deep inside the chest of the deadman, with forks and carving knives on all sides. Plates were even down here. It just felt sick and wrong, seeing better quality tools here than on the dinner table upstairs. At the head of the altar, there was a journal. This one, Elayne skimmed. She kept an eye on the glowing altar as she did so, feeling some kind of penalty for it. 

It was an old family record. Going back for hundreds of years, linking between someone named Ard Caddach all the way down to the present day. The last of a bloodline, apparently. It ended at one name. “Madanach.” She whispered. But the tree didn’t end. Madanach had children, through different women. Only one seemed to still live, a Glooredhel. “He has a descendant.” A daughter, apparently. Born in Markarth during the uprising. The last page of the notebook had a few addendums, along with a note in some kind of smooth hand. ‘This line is ended. By the hand of the Dragonborn.’ The death of Glooredhel was listed for a specific day. Shivering, Elayne drew out the journal that belonged to Eola. The dates were the same. She knew that the Forsworn had been hunted down by then. There would have been none left. Which only left once conclusion. 

“Who is it?” Lydia asked, concerned.

“Eola. She is the daughter of Madanach.” 

“But she hunted down his people!”

“She might not have known.” Elayne stared up at the altar of the daedric prince. “But kinslaying is considered harsh even for worshippers. Eating your own father? Killing an entire people?” Elayne’s eyes swam. “She had to have been driven to do it.”

“What about the Dragonborn?” Lydia considered. “The genocidal one.”

“I think he was the one who killed her.” Elayne pocketed the journal. “She thought the meat was poisoned. But maybe it was the collar.”

“We can inspect it for poison later. Take that ebony dagger, it’s worth a lot.” Lydia pointed to the body. 

“Fine.” Elayne replied, stepping towards the head of the table. The dagger was right there. Just underneath the gaze of the statue of Namira. “Wait, I think that’s a daedric dagger.” Elayne considered. “It might be part of the offering.”

“I think there will be more we can use in here.” Lydia considered. “Surilie brothers wine, for instance!” Elayne filtered out whatever else her housecarl was saying, instead looking at the dagger buried in the chest of Madanach. It looked like he had died from a single strike. The enchantment seemed strong, from her perspective. But she did promise her Aunt that she would take anything of value. A Daedric weapon was right along those lines. Her hand tingled, as she drew the magic weapon from the corpse. 

Two portals to Oblivion opened, and blue-skinned Dremora appeared. One was wearing robes, with bloody symbols and large carving tools along her wrists. She also had a spear. The other Dremora was wearing daedric armor and had a greatsword. But also at his belt was a whip. “Lydia!” She yelled. Her housecarl tottered forward, hefting her warhammer. But all that Elayne had was this small dagger. Daedric it might be, she didn’t have armor or anything else to help her. Heels clicked loudly as both took positions.

“You steal from Namira, Breton!” The male Dremora declared. “Prepare for the punishment!”

Battle was joined, as the male dremora came after her, and the female after Lydia. She cast spells, Lydia rolling into one of the equipment rows to dodge it. She held her small dagger out, as the male took out his greatsword. He charged, blade coming in impossibly fast. She had to step back, but the Dremora’s follow up strike was an elbow into her gut, leaving her breathless. She shouted, the first shout that came to mind when fighting something this overpowering. “Zun! Haal!” She gasped, sending the greatsword out of his hands and into a pile of baskets. Then she took a heaving breath and used the dagger, trying to cut him. 

Instead of staying in range, the Dremora stepped back, and Elayne had to get her breath back. She glanced over at Lydia, seeing that her housecarl was beset by spells and having trouble getting close to the other Dremora. Before she could decide her entire body lit up with pain, as her nipple seemed to explode. Crouching, she gave a gasp and only heard the crack of the whip afterwards. 

The male Dremora was still armed. The whip was cruel, and he seemed to be a master of its use. Already he was winding up for another strike, far outside the range of her dagger. She rolled, but the whip seemed to have a life of its own, biting into the bare skin of her thighs. Preparing a spell, Elayne found herself out of magicka entirely. The whip! It must be draining her! She ran behind a pillar, the air snapping as she barely dodged his next strike. 

“You shout?” The male laughed. “A female Greybeard?”

“There are none alive.” The female corrected. “Surrender, girl. Your friend’s life will be spared, if you prove yourself to Namira.”

“Lydia?” Elayne called. There was no response. 

“She has lost.” The female called, and Elayne looked across the room to see. Lydia was slumped against a wall, chains surrounding her form. Blood was flowing from a gash along her temple, and the female Dremora stood above her, spear tip aimed at her neck. “What are you, girl?”

“A Dragonborn.” Elayne spoke, as both Dremora laughed. It was a dark and horrible thing. “I came for knowledge!”

“Our Lady of Death does not recognize you. But to thieves who steal from her, there will be punishment. If you want your friend to live, return the dagger.” The male said loudly, standing near the altar. “And then apologize. If your apology is good enough, we won’t kill both of you.”

Elayne scowled. Lydia’s life was worth saving. Taking a deep breath, she stepped out into the cover she had, and walked towards the altar. The male was standing beside it, whip unfurled but not in an attack stance. “How does one apologize to Namira?” She asked. This world might be different. Her shoes were the only echoing noise through the basement as she stepped underneath the glowing altar once again. 

“Choose to celebrate life,” The male spoke, creully. “Or death. One ritual but two paths. Speak, mortal maid.”

She knew how Daedra worked. Both paths would result in her probably having to sacrifice Lydia or herself. “I offer another choice.” She stared at the altar, whose glow seemed to be brighter somehow. “I will save Eola and elevate her in my own world. Give your worshipper power and friends that she has not had before.” 

The Dremora seemed to pause, both looking at the altar. A voice, from everywhere in the room and nowhere at the same time broke the silence. “ **How daring, mortal. To demand where others dare not? Yet I see your shadow upon two worlds. Two shades of Mundus, where all others cast but one shadow. How curious, you have a life here and a life there.** ” The glow from the altar seemed to carry forwards. “ **I care little for the life of one worshipper. Especially when I have a far more important catch in front of me. You wish to prove yourself worthy of the Prince of Darkness? I have a challenge for you, Dragonborn of two worlds.** ”

“Your challenge may be preferable to what your dremora would demand from me.”

“ **You stink of Mora’s magic. Yet I also feel the touch of another Prince upon you. You are rather different from the Dragonborn here.** ”

Elayne clenched her fists. “What do you mean I exist here?”

“ **You do not understand. You exist in this world as a life already. It is why Mora can take you back and forth. Your existence in this world is not dead, and yet when you cross over you are touched by it. Perhaps by the end you and your other existence will become one.** ” The voice was whimsical. Amused. “ **Your appearance becomes more like hers with each visit, such is the nature of the enchantment you use. Mora cannot take you by his own power, you see. That power you have used belongs to another Daedric Prince, and they are jealous of its use. Now, I know you are capable, but I wish to see you humbled. Stealing from my shrine and knowing full well that you should not! I will take from you your companion, and give you until sunrise.** ” 

Lydia and the female Dremora disappeared into a portal, taken into Oblivion. “What would you have me do?” 

“ **My Dremora shall remain here, to observe you. And guarantee that you do it. From this corpse on the table, you shall prepare a meal. You have stolen from my offering, and now you shall partake. Use the corpse, and offer gracious thanks to me. Then, return here to my altar.** ” 

The male Dremora folded its arms, as if he found all of this satisfying. But she was more than just some adventurer. Elayne was well aware of the daedric cults, and an accomplished survivalist. Fuming, she trotted over to the table and stared down at the desiccated corpse. The flesh was dry, though unmarred by insects. And she had to eat some of this if she were to get Lydia back. So Elayne thought through it. She had until sunrise. First things first, she had to get the fire going. So she walked upstairs, taking wood from the small pile and starting the cook fire pit. The pot she filled with salt, water and a pinch of garlic. All of this while acutely aware of her bleeding thigh, and her aching body. 

The wounds she healed before she was back downstairs. Thighs quivering, she approached the altar and the Dremora who remained. He was grinning, his teeth on full display. Elayne at least tried to ignore him, her skirt sliding back and forth as she moved around the table to reach the legs of Madanach. She tore the leg off, using a carving knife. Then she removed the bones from the legs, until she had a handful of the ill gotten objects. Back upstairs she went, conscious of the hour. It was dark. The bones would take hours to break down. Clenching her teeth, she went to the alchemy area and brought out the mortar, hammering the bones with all of the rage and pent up anger she had. 

“Stupid dress.” She murmured, glaring at the tented bits of fabric from the piercings below it. It had been pulling at them all the time she had been in here, and beyond everything else it was pissing her off. Glaring down, she pulled the tight fabric up and out, until it no longer pressed against her nipples. “That’s better.” She was alone here. The Dremora would stay at the altar, to make sure she took action. It wouldn’t come out of the basement. Biting her lip, she pulled down the front of the dress until both of her small breasts were hanging freely. 

If she had to eat this corpse, it wouldn’t be chewing on old bones and old flesh. Not a chance. But bone broth took a long time to make. Even grinding the bones down would only make it take most of the night. But it would at least be edible. Once the pot was boiling, all that she had to do was maintain the fire. This house had enough charcoal for that, the small spheres easy to use. Frustratingly, there was little to do once the pot was boiling. It was just her, locked into an outfit. She had hours until this meal was prepared, and went to sit in the only part of the house she knew she could handle. 

Her nipples ached as the soul gems swung back and forth, coming to a stop as she slumped onto the bed. “Damn it.” She grumbled, slamming her fists into the sheets. But as she did so, an object touched her wrist. As if she could have forgotten what she hid under the pillow. Staring her almost in the face was the Stick. And suddenly, she felt as though she had a choice about how she would spend her time. Lydia would at least understand, right? “Fuck.” The word felt alien on her tongue, Elayne rarely swearing. But that crystal and ebony object was made by the other Dragonborn, and a part of her wanted to know more.


	12. Chapter 12: First Time for Everything

Elayne’s hands curled around the crystal and ebonite. It felt cool, but not frozen. The surface had ridges, and felt smooth in a way that only hours spent polishing would ever cause. It looked large, even with both hands holding it. Her cheeks heated, and she pursed her lips together. “Okay, now what.” Her words ran through the room, not calming her at all. She had no experience besides what her aunt had told her, and the one time Lydia showed her how to give a blowjob. “Eola said she rode you all night. But you’re just..” A stick. Her nickname for the other Dragonborn. 

Elayne could feel heat pooling in her body, her bare nipples tingling. The maid dress was tight, so very tight across her stomach. The belt locking it to her ran above her navel, and the gem hanging from it. Her tiny breasts did nothing to hide her body or complement it. Thick strands of blue-purple hair fell past them, tickling the exposed skin. Looking past her curves, she could see the moonstone bands on her thighs glittering in the moonlight. The ever present feeling of the iron band around her neck brought a weight. And there, sitting in her hands was the large object. “I’m calling you Stick.” She declared to the room, shakily. She felt embarrassed, as if she had just named an imaginary friend. It looked very large even being held. 

Looking down at her thighs, she squeezed them together. The moonstone touched, clicking softly. Could that really fit inside of her? “Try what you know first.” Licking her lips, she lifted Stick and held it against them. Her tongue followed Lydia’s instructions from weeks ago, and pressed against the bottom of the tip. It felt heady and powerful, and yet she felt heat flush deeper. As soon as her lips touched it, the ebonite came to life. It spun, the ridges and grooves gently pulling the entire object forward and out of her hands, pushing deeper into her mouth. She gasped, lips leaving the Stick. It stopped moving the moment her lips left it. “It moves!” She held it up, trying to track the different grooves of ebonite and how they moved. It didn’t seem possible, but then Eola’s words came back to her mind. “She rode it. It moves on its own.” 

It all made sense! Well, at least the book and Eola. Looking down, she could feel as much as see how hard her nipples were. Past them, and the dress tightly gripping her stomach. The pile of fluffy skirts were all that stood between her and the Stick. Feeling heady, she raised the skirts with her left hand, her right bringing the large ebonite and crystal object underneath the layers of white underskirt. Her legs were spread out, but even so she could only go by feel for where the Stick was. Nibbling her lip, she clenched her thighs together, and apparently that was enough contact for the object to activate. It moved, almost completely on its own by using the tightness of her thighs as traction. 

The Stick found her apex immediately, and she clenched her thighs together as hard as she could. It was too much, too fast! Yet all that did was pull control right out of her right hand, and the crystal moved on its own past the view provided by the skirts. Elayne’s body lit up with feeling, as the crystal pushed past all of her tensed muscles to begin sliding inside of her, the feeling greater than anything she had ever experienced. She slumped onto the bed, legs flailing and arms gripping the skirts. Heaving, it felt like her entire being was being split in half, as the Stick moved inexorably forward. She felt her body stretching, until it felt like there was no more room for it to go!

Gasping, Elayne brought a hand down to remove it. But the damned thing starting shuddering like a caught animal, vibrating her entire body. “Ohh.” She rolled, not able to escape it. “My!” Her hands couldn’t grab it, the damned fluffy skirt just interfering with her fingers! It was hard to think, to coordinate her digits. All that she felt trying to reach between her legs was layer after layer of underskirt. A feeling was building beyond her ability to control. Like a lightning bolt, every part of her body had come alive and was drowned out by the feeling of the Stick. It got to be too much! She tried to scream, to yell or do something! Her scream was some combination of grunts and moans, but all that came out was a combination of the words  **Fuck** and  **Yes** . It became more than that, a scream that became more of a dragon shout. 

The wall in front of her face shuddered, her entire body releasing all of its energy in one go. Her vision swam, and Elayne passed out, seeing brick and stone damaged by the scream. When she finally awoke, she was shivering. The wall had been damaged, and she perked her head up to see that a few bricks and stones had fallen out, letting in a mighty draft. And resting in her hands was Stick, the crystal taking on new meaning for her. She didn’t know how long it had been, but she was cold. Her legs felt like jelly as she moved back into the main room, the Stick being placed in the deepest part of her bag. She might be keeping that. By the Divines, she was keeping that. Her body still tingled in odd places as she walked over to the pot, and checked on the broth. There were still chunks of bones in it, but they were few and far between. Standing next to the coals, she lifted her skirts in back and warmed herself. 

Using a spoon, she fished out all of the bones that hadn’t broken down yet, and tossed in some garlic and salt. She didn’t know how long she had knocked herself out, but it was still dark. She had time. As she moved, it felt like her skirts were tickling her ass differently. Or maybe she was just feeling some kind of afterglow. She felt more tender and on edge. But now she had a bone broth. Using a set of gloves, she carried the pot down the stairs to the basement. She really was getting better with her heels, not at all having trouble carrying the heavy object. The Dremora was still sitting at the table beneath the shrine of Namira, its face lighting up with interest as she approached.

“I’ve prepared a meal.” She glared. “What now?”

The Dremora grinned, but it was the voice of its prince that spoke. “ **You will partake of your meal, once you are properly seated. Perhaps a reminder of your life here may assist you, mortal. Spill any of your meal upon my altar, and I shall curse you for it.** ” The Dremora laughed, taking up the only chair at the table. It was then that she noticed that its armor looked different. It had removed its fauld! It’s cock was standing upright, blue and almost blending into its armor. Before it was set a bowl, not very deep. Shuddering, Elayne realized that she had never pulled her dress back up! She was bare chested in front of these daedra! 

Gems swinging, she mustered as much dignity as she could and brought the pot to the table, taking a ladle and pouring in into the bowl. The broth was off in color, and looked wrong. Her stomach was churning already, at the thought of eating a dead man. Gods, it was easier to stomach anything else. The entire room seemed silent, but for the sound of her shoes and the bubbling of the pot. Elayne took deep breaths, just thinking. 

The bowl was right next to the desiccated body of Madanach. A sick reminder of what she was doing, perhaps. Angrily, she walked to the only seat in the room, where she would debase herself for this Daedra. But she needed Lydia back. Groaning, she lifted her skirt and brought herself over the daedra’s lap. It grabbed her rudely, pulling her down onto itself. She wasn’t expecting it, and growled. Twisting, she glared at its sneering face. “Fo!” She yelled, her frost breath unavoidable at this range. It’s head and shoulders froze, and she yelled, anger rising from nowhere. The humiliation of this performance had just been the force to drive her over the knife edge. Her hands grasped for anything to help, as the Dremora was groaning, simultaneously inside of her and trying to free itself. The only thing in range was a familiar handle. “Fuck it.” She growled, swinging the daedric dagger and cutting into the Dremora’s neck. Twice it took, before the ice cracked and it was summoned back to oblivion. She fell to the chair, the stone still warm from the Dremora that had just been filling it. 

Then, she glared back at the statue of Namira. Politely, she put the dagger back and pulled her skirt back down. Then, closing her eyes she drank the entire bowl of soup. Her stomach roiled, and she had to keep herself from retching. “There! I thank you, Namira!” She said, meaning none of it. “Return my housecarl!” 

“ **A pleasant performance, Dragonborn. I expect you to keep your word in your world. My worshippers are not to be harmed, unless you wish my ire. I return what belongs to you, now.** ” A portal to Oblivion appeared, and Lydia came rolling out of it, two blades in hand and screaming, swiping at anything. Elayne shuddered, sighing in relief. She was sore in places she wasn’t used to, and smiled to see her friend. 

“Lydia! You’re back!”

The Nord heaved a breath, spitting blood. “My thane. Let’s.. talk upstairs.” She was still shaky on her shoes, and Elayne could see blisters on the exposed skin. “Away from this.” 

They both glared at the dagger, and shut the basement door. There was a collective agreement that they wouldn’t be taking anything else from there. “Are you okay?” She asked, letting Lydia lean on her. 

“I’ve been better.” The Nord admitted. “But I knew you would succeed.”

“It took a while. I’m sorry, she had me eat some of the corpse.”

Lydia almost threw up right there. “I need to sit down.” And stare at the floor, breathing carefully. Elayne spent most of her magicka healing her, until the wounds and cuts were closed. “We should leave this place.” 

“I, uh, might have been working on that too.” Elayne grinned. “The wall is almost broken through.”

“Great!” Lydia grinned. “We can be out of this gods forsaken place immediately!”

“I haven’t found any lockpicks or ways to get these off of us.” Elayne tapped the floor with one of the heels. “I hope you don’t mind hiking in these.”

“The farther we are from Hendraheim, the better off I will be.” Lydia stated. Both women could see the glimmers of dawn through the gaps in the wall. “This is good work, my thane. Your weapon is going to need sharpening. This stone is hard, and I’ve already chipped my warhammer.” The Nord shoved her shoulder into the stonework, some pebbles falling free. “Well? Let’s get out of here, and get to everything your aunt told us. I’m going to be slow on these stilt shoes.”

As the dawn rose, she and Lydia were escaping Hendraheim, their bags full of anything that could carry. Along with some of the bloodied Forsworn gear that would prove to her Aunt what happened to them. But there would be a way to save her people. Madanach had a daughter, which meant the line could continue. Of course, that daughter was a cannibalistic murdering daedric cultist. She would fit in perfectly, if they could just talk to her. Elayne clenched the fluttery maid dress as she walked, vowing in her heart to at least try. 


	13. Chapter 13: Lost Hills and Bare Asses

Lost Valley was better than Hendraheim but also worse. It looked like it had been abandoned for a long while. Tent poles were still standing in some places, but the furs and coverings had been taken for profit and salvage elsewhere. But the eerie part of it all was the bones. People had been piled upon the bonfires, and the small shrines to Hircine and Namira had been removed. Or destroyed, she couldn’t find any evidence of it. A sabercat had taken residence in the half-collapsed ruin that her aunt had used as a storehouse for food and ingredients, the walls stripped bare. The shelves were dusty and full of cobwebs, and rats inhabited the lowest reaches of the Redoubt. 

Some of the secret caches had been uncovered, exposed and raided. Whether by her own people or treasure hunters, some of them had been cleared. But at least half were still untouched. Staves, potions, gold and gems tumbled into their bags to the point that Lydia was leaving hers behind at her aunt’s hut posts, and they were traveling together with their bags to get more gold and valuables from the upper reaches of Lost Valley. Chests were obvious, but small boulders were not. An entire cave system was hidden behind old iron grates in the aquaducts, and infested with spiders. She and Lydia got bitten many many times by the small ones, but eventually dragged out a couple of staves of wall of flames. One of the more powerful Destruction spells out there, Elayne whistled when she figured out what they did. 

It left a scar thirty feet wide and burned for a minute or two before the mana ran out. In that time, Elayne had promptly screamed and run for cover, while Lydia laughed hard from her position of safety. That was when the burst of magic came. It started like a chill wind, causing her skin to goosebump. In the area she knew her aunt’s tent to be, a shadow seemed to grow, until the light of afternoon sun was showing almost a whole person. Then it filled in, the darkness letting free the form of her Aunt. While it didn’t make noise, the feeling of magic washed over her. 

“Namira forgive.” Gwynabyth murmured. She looked around, seeing only the signs of the dead. “It looks worse than we found out after we escaped Markarth. Elayne?”

“Aunt Gwynnie!” Elayne yelled, trotting over to hug her. “You came earlier than we expected!”

“I was running half the night!” She said, looking affronted. “We barely got back and started in the morning.”

“But you are here!”

“What are you wearing.” Her aunt cackled. “Oh my gods what are these things?”

Lydia groaned, carefully walking over. “They’re locked upon us in three places. I hope you brought lockpicks.”

She cackled harder. “Oh my bones, this is adorable! I can’t wait for the rest of the Forsworn to see it!” She leaned over, biting her lip and wiping tears off her face. “Something like this? Oh, one of the Hagravens knows the spell.”

“We have to see the Hagravens?” Lydia closed her eyes. 

“Of course you will. You want to be the hero of the world? If our council declares you a hero, then you’ll have your army. For the dragons, for Skyrim, for whatever you need. Just don’t expect us to forget the asking price. Hospitality is one thing, but fighting another woman’s battle is not my comfort. Now, let’s get you some materials. Though by the looks of it you’ve done everything except the leap.”

“The leap?”

Gwynabyth pointed at the waterfall. “The Bard’s Leap. Underneath the platform is a lot of materials. So, go climb up the mountain and get it for me!” 

“But you just got here.” Elayne muttered.

“I just ran all damned night for you, so you better run up that hill, or else!” Her auntie let some sparks fly between her fingers. Elayne chose to run, as survival was far better than taking a lightning bolt to the ass. She moved all the way up to the thin platform, the old rotten wood hanging over the waterfall. 

“Underneath this?” Elayne murmured, her vision swimming as she looked down. Carefully, she got down on her knees, the water from the falls spraying her thighs and ankles. Underneath the rotted wood, there was a small cavity. Her hands closed around the bag her aunt had promised was there, the heavy object shoved deep under the wood structure. The wood cracked, her weight enough to cause it to buckle. More frustratingly, it was keeping the sack from being drawn out. Giving a mighty pull, the sack came out. But she was sliding off the edge of the summit. Panicking, she screamed out a dragon shout to help her. The whirlwind sprint should instead pushed her further off the edge, and now she was falling towards the slim pool of water at the bottom. 

A few moments later, she hit the water. And somehow, she lived. Sputtering, she got to the surface and gasped for air, awkwardly swimming from the depths towards the stairs. Her aunt and Lydia were there, scrambling into the water. “Gods! Are you alright?” Her housecarl screamed. Gwynabyth was far more quiet, looking scared and ashen. 

“I’m okay.” Elayne said, the tight dress even worse when wet. She was shivering. She got cold very easily, and diving into mountain spring waters was a recipe for shivers. “But I got it!”

They pulled her from the water, towards the spot where  _ Captured Dreams _ lay open. Collectively, they all shivered. Even Lydia was cold. “Did you find out?” Gwynabyth asked. “What happened to them all?” She had her arms wrapped around herself. 

“The Forsworn were hunted down. Every man, woman and child.” Elayne explained. “By the Dragonborn and the daughter of Madanach. Who was the last to die, with any survivors being taken away out of the Reach.”

“Hunted down? By two people?” Gwynabyth scoffed. “That isn’t possible.”

“I have a book full of dates, and numbers of Forsworn killed on those days. And their armor to prove it. There were hundreds of sets of Forsworn armor in the place. A monument to the consumed. They would take patrols before the actual villages. Stalking down the hunters first before going after the rest.” Elayne said. “And fighting that Dragonborn? It doesn’t matter if you brought an army. He would end anything less than the full might of the Forsworn in Lost Valley.”

“You’ve got big britches to fill, then.” Gwynabyth shuddered. “Gods, that water is frigid. Come on, let’s go back using that book.”

Lydia and Elayne huddled together with her aunt, as Elayne pressed the rune on the book to return. All of them held heavy bags of gear in their free hands. The world around them brightened, and in a flash they were within her tent. A tent with a warm fire, and blankets and comforts. All three of the women sighed in relief, and huddled around the fire until they felt less cold. Elayne looked all over herself, trying to find the price. The book always demanded a price, but she wasn’t seeing it. Lydia’s was clear. The maid dress could barely conceal the new additions to her nipples, the soul gems tenting the fabric. Her aunt looked to have anklets and thigh bands exactly like her, but in Forsworn armor it didn’t seem to bother her at all. Hers also seemed to be iron, and not moonstone. But try as she might, she didn’t see any additions to her body or form. 

Gwynabyth stood up, staring at her legs. “Well. Without a blacksmith I’ll have to wear this getup like a badge of honor. I’ll go get someone who I know can get you out of those dresses. Then we can bring you before the full council.” Gwynabyth dug into a chest. “Ah! Here, housecarl. You’ll fit in around here better if you’re dressed.” She handed Lydia a set of Forsworn armor, patting her on the shoulder before stepping out of the tent. 

“I should just-” Lydia started saying, as Elayne cut her off.

“It will be better on your new additions.” She interrupted. “I promise it might feel nicer, and you can at least travel through the hills without getting killed.”

“I’ve been thinking about that, my thane.” Lydia changed the subject. “I think I should carry as much as I can back to Breezehome. Empty your pockets and let you get more gathered. As well as keep the Elder Scroll out of the hands of your aunt’s people.”

Elayne considered that, huddled near the fire. “It would be safer to keep the other pieces of the Razor away from them, too. I don’t always trust that they would share my goals.”

“Let’s organize our bags.” Lydia agreed. She took the weapons, armor, jewelry and the elder scroll. Impossible to hide, but it was clearly there. Four feet long golden scrolls are not easy to conceal, so they didn’t try. The pieces of the Razor were concealed at the very bottom of her pack. The hilt was hidden with some necklaces, while the shattered pieces of the blade were in the bag of soul gems. They were just hashing out who should carry a piece of gold ore when the tent flaps opened once again, and Gwynabyth stepped inside. “You ready?” Elayne nodded, and a second figure stepped into the tent. 

“Where is my grand-daughter!” The snide voice of her grandmother came. “Morgausa calls!” A hagraven was the height of Forsworn power in the Reach. They did not ask permission, they demanded attention and obedience. 

“Right here, Grandmother.” Elayne waved. “We appreciate you coming to our aid.” There was little warmth between them. Elayne’s mother had married a merchant and gotten out from under her thumb long ago, and Morgausa had never forgiven her. Or Elayne, for that matter. Gwynabyth had told her late one night that losing her sons to the war and all but one of her daughters to High Rock made her become a hagraven. 

“Your thanks are received.” Morgausa’s yellow eyes moved over each of their forms. “And you are marked by the magic of oblivion. Powerful sorcery has been used upon you. And you have been marked by it.” She took one strand of blue hair into her claws. “The colors of Namira or Molag Bal.”

“Not Hermaeus Mora?” She questioned. 

“No. The power you use has its sources in another prince. But these powers are not small.” The Hagraven was making Lydia’s eyebrows rise straight to her hairline. She had never been so close to one of them, Elayne could tell. “I will do my best to remove the things that bother you. And your pet Nord.” Her yellow eyes passed over Lydia dismissively. “Sit.” 

Elayne sat in front of her grandmother, who squatted. Her bird like feet didn’t let her sit down the same way anymore. “The dress is locked around the biceps and waist.” 

There was a heavy clank, as the collar around her neck broke. Elayne’s eyes went wide, watching the sections of iron hit the dirt. “No descendant of mine belongs to a Nord. Alive or dead.” Morgausa declared. “Let me get you taken care of. Do you want to keep the dress?” 

“Yes.” Elayne answered immediately. It just felt right, in a way. She needed to know more about that world, and it might help. “Though I don’t want that.” She motioned to the broken collar on the floor. Her neck felt wonderful without it. Morgausa’s claws expertly cast spells, the different locks on the dress popping open one by one. The shoes were released in another burst of spells. She was free of it! Morgausa gave once glance at the moonstone bands around her ankles and thighs, before scoffing. “Elfin magicks. These I don’t think I can remove.” 

Elayne nodded. “You still have freed me from the worst of it, Grandmother.” 

“Get dressed. The council will want to see you.” Morgausa began working on Lydia, whose moonstone collar was also too difficult to remove. Gwynabyth’s leg bands could be removed, but by that time Morgausa was nearly out of magicka. She looked tired, for having spent so much time casting. The items must have been powerful if she was feeling drained by it. Elayne went into her bag, looking at all of the ill fitting dresses she owned. Gwynabyth reached in for her, drawing out the fur and bone bundle from where she kept it in her bag. 

“You want their help? You’re a daughter of the Reach.” Her aunt insisted. So, in her small tent she and Lydia got dressed in Forsworn armor. Twin glittering gems hung from their navels. Elayne blushed at the armor, feeling like everything was on display. Especially the moonstone bands around her thighs and ankles. Just to be annoying, she decided to wear one of her pairs of high heels. The moonstone looked good on her, and she just seemed to like her feet being arched as time went on. 

“Auntie, can you send Lydia back to Whiterun first? She’s carrying all of the things I need to keep things going.”

“You’re splitting up?” Her aunt seemed to consider that. 

“Lydia is taking supplies to Whiterun, and I’ll meet up with her later. I need to confront Drascua and find other solutions to fighting Alduin.”

Morgausa nodded. “There are many things we could consider doing. The Daedra are erstwhile allies of their worshippers. But those secrets are for full members of the Forsworn.”

“You can’t hold her to that!” Gwynabyth hissed. “Not when she hasn’t spilled blood for the cause! Or fought the Nords! Her mother wasn’t with us when the Reach fell!”

“I know that better than all others.” Morgausa spat. “I shall not share anything with the unworthy. Prove you are a daughter of the Reach, or else. Now matter your words, we shall not listen to outsiders. Useful you might be as an agent who supplies us, but the Forsworn learned long ago that there is no compromise with the others we share this land with. They will break their promises to us, or shun us. Turn us out of our ancestral halls and drive us from our homes! No, I will not share anything with an outsider. Even family.” The Hagraven’s eyes were lit with some kind of feeling. Anger, perhaps. “Especially family.” She repeated, quieter. 

The Hagraven left the tent, and Elayne realized that she had been grinding her teeth. Gwynabyth was at her side, holding her shoulder. “Don’t take her words to heart. She loves you.”

“That is love?” Lydia questioned, from the back of the tent. 

“Hagravens become empowered by dark magicks. They stop feeling many emotions that we consider normal. For her? That was love. Morgausa loves us enough to warn us, rather than just telling you to leave the camp.”

“What was she like before she was a hagraven?” Elayne dared to ask. It was one of those rare times that her aunt was willing to talk about the old times. 

“Not much better.” Gwynabyth admitted. “But she lost all of her sons. Her line is ending here in the Reach. It weakens her position with the other Hagravens. I haven’t born any sons and my husband is dead. Her sons are dead. Your mother and her other sister are over in High Rock playing at being important. Which leaves the only male cousin you have left to continue her line would be your cousin Alberic.”

Alberic was a whining prat. A mother’s son by any measure of things. Morgausa would never recognize him as anything while he was a blithering idiot. “So I’m the only one she can expect her line to carry through?”

“You admitted you’re some kind of hero. Now she’s worried you’re going to waste those child bearing hips fighting another person’s fight. So it’s a certain kind of love.” Gwynabyth was adjusting the armor, making sure it fit correctly. It felt wrong on Elayne. Besides her massive ass being displayed, she lacked the tribal markings of her clan. She didn’t look like one of the Forsworn, and she shivered. She didn’t grow up here, among the Reachmen. She hadn’t been shaped by their laws and customs. Only the slim bond of family gave her reason to connect. “I’ll find a horse for your Housecarl to ride home with. Bring the staves and any kind of rare ingredients for the meeting. And wear your mask.” Gwynabyth smiled. “It’ll remind them that you are better than they think.” She hadn’t taken off the Dragon Priest mask, and ever since she got that moonstone circlet stuck on her head, she had just been content to keep her face hidden. Helmets just didn’t want to cooperate with it. 

Lydia gave her a nudge almost by surprise. “Be careful, my thane. I’ll be in Whiterun and at your service whenever you are ready.”

“I should be with you soon. In a few weeks, at the most.”

“Send a letter, then.” The nord laughed. “It’ll reach me faster.”

A short hug was the only thing they exchanged before both separated. Lydia onto a horse, and she up the hill to the top of Lost Valley. The Forsworn were well aware that something was going on, and all of them seemed to notice her fat ass moving up the hill. Maybe it was the blue hair, the navel ring or the heeled shoes. Her mind screamed that they were staring at her pale skin and bare thighs. But she made her march of shame up the hill, the blush hidden from by the dragon priest mask. 

The very top of the Lost Valley was where all of their rituals were performed. She hadn’t been up there very often, but Lost Valley was a very powerful clan. Three Hagravens were in its members, which meant that the full rituals could be performed. Other clans would come and entreat them for powers that required more than one hagraven. So all in all, her aunt was part of a rich clan. All three hagravens were waiting for her at the top of the ruins, along with all of the older shamans. Two Briarhearts, their skin purple and dead stood alongside them. All of the crowd seemed to be waiting for her, the hagravens standing at the highest point. Younger Forsworn hunters and members of other clans here on business stood below her, and her aunt stood by her side. 

Her grandmother looked angry, but that was normal. The other two hagravens looked equally mad, but that might be normal too. They were the powers of rage and destruction personified, as some would say. “I bring Elayne, daughter of Gilliane, daughter of Morgausa before the council. Please hear what she has to say.” Her aunt declared, giving her a nod. 

Elayne reached into her pack, drawing out bloodied headdresses of the Forsworn. The first piece of evidence for what she would declare. Some looked surprised, recognizing their own individual markings on some of the ones placed. One shaman even glanced at her own, to confirm. From her bag, she also brought out multiple journals. First there was Eola’s, and then the family history belonging to Madanach. “My name is Elayne. Though I was not raised here in the Reach like you, I came to join my family. My father is a merchant of Wayrest. My mother was born in Markarth, before it fell. Though she left and forsook her clan to find fortune elsewhere, I returned. More importantly, I am a walker of the planes of Oblivion. I have stepped between the realms, and stolen knowledge from a future yet unknown. As such, I bring warnings of a future that may yet be.”

Elayne was a Breton. She was the daughter of a merchant. And she had days to think about what she had to say to this group of people. “I have walked the plane of Oblivion to take from that future the information to prove that it may yet happen. I am the Dragonborn, a hero spun from time to stop the rise of the Dragons. To end the life of their leader, Alduin!” Her voice carried across the gathered men and women of the Reach. From her bag, she drew out the war staves from the other world, and laid out each one by one. “I bring the buried weapons of war for the Forsworn, which were left buried. Their owners never got the chance to use them.”

“Do you demand something of the Forsworn? Or do you just gloat at your own prowess?” One of the Hagravens screeched. It was their way, at least of being respectful.

“I demand their aid. To fight the Dragons, and to the calamities which shall surely follow in their wake. For this is not the first trouble. Others will come. But I do not demand from the Forsworn people recklessly. I bring you something that can challenge the perils you now face. More than the promise of battle.” She held up the book of genealogy. “This is the personal genealogy of Madanach, going back to the Longhouse Emperors that once ruled from the Reach! And it states equivocally that he has a surviving heir. The Reach’s line of dynastic inheritance is not at an end.” She set it down, as the collective group of Forsworn seemed to be waiting on baited breath. “I know the name and location of the last Princess of the Reach.”

“You bring this before the Forsworn?” The oldest Hagraven noted. “Is this your complete demands?”

“To reiterate: I demand your help in fighting the dragons and whatever other threats are of the same scale. I will not use the Forsworn and draw my family into wars that can be avoided. I won’t involve them in fights outside the realm that already puts them at risk. I only ask that you become part of the solution to fix them, rather than a bunch of saltwives sitting on a fence watching the battle be decided!” 

“You wish for warriors?” One of the shamans asked. “What else?”

“I need tools to defeat a creature that is the literal son of Akatosh himself. I need a way to harm an Aedra directly. I need spells suited for the darkest arts and the highest forms of war. Secrets that can assist me and only me prevent the destruction of this world. Alduin is the sign of a dragon break. An end time. If he wins, all lives end. The Reach will end in the hands of the Silver bloods and the Nords. I need anything that will help me stop a god itself.”

The oldest of the Hagravens had more wrinkles than the others. She seemed to loosen her face. “You have the blood of dragons? A Dragon-born?” She grinned. “Let us help you, child. There are few indeed that know how to injure a god. Few indeed. But the coven of hagravens have been learning from the Daedra and Aedra for thousands of years. Secrets we have. Power we have. But we will not do such a thing on a promise alone. Show us your power, Elayne, daughter of Gilliane. Bring us this lost daughter of the Reach. We make this vow before the Forsworn. If you bring unto us this heir, we shall promise unto you the full power of the Forsworn. Warriors, spells, and forbidden arts buried deep.” The three Hagravens all seemed to agree. “It is true you are no blooded daughter of the Forsworn. But as you stand amongst us you seem more capable than many. To walk Oblivion to secure our aid is a daring prospect. Especially for one so young. But this Dragonblood, if it truly exists in your veins may be the strength that defines you.”

“I can show you, if you would like.” Elayne offered. She took in a deep breath, and looked up at the skies. The shout she chose was fire breath, something iconic. Dragons of old were known to breath fire. The pillar of fire rushed into the sky, her shout echoing into the air and making all of the Forsworn wince. 

Chills ran down her spine as something else in the mountains screamed, an identical shout. A second pillar of fire roared out from the heights above, and wings flapped as it grew ever closer. “Dragon!” Some of the Forsworn called. “It’s a Dragon!” Many people ran for cover, but Elayne made eye contact with Morgausa. Her grandmother was looking at her expectantly. 

“Stand your ground!” She was almost surprised she was the one who said it. “Ice spells first! Take cover from its breath!” Elayne reached into her bag, drawing out a couple of potions of frost and flame resistance. Drinking both, she drew her enchanted dwarven sword. “Fight with me this day, and see what we live in fear of!” 

Like a boulder rolling down the mountains, the dragon drew ever closer. It had eyes only for Elayne. It was coming right for her, screaming death threats. Taking a deep breath, she let it come. Arrows and spells were striking it, and the dragon only seemed to want her. It got hit by spells, poisons and far too much. The dragon was small, the kind she had been able to kill with the help of Lydia. Against thirty Forsworn? The creature was dead before it hit the ground. But it seemed to want to take her with it. It put it’s entire body weight as a rock, with her as the target. When it did hit the ground, it was already burning to ash. She screamed at it, with enough force to stop all of its momentum. Her throat felt raw, but inches in front of her was the skull of the dragon. It’s soul was gone, and she had taken it. But the rest of the Forsworn were staring at her in awe. They saw her do it.

Elayne cleared her throat, looking at the hagravens. “I am sorry for attracting the attention of the dragon. I, Elayne accept your oath and offer. I shall bring you the daughter of Madanach.”

“We shall take of these bones, and design for you a token that all Forsworn may recognize you.” The hagravens walked forward to the still steaming bones. “We don’t know of a spell that can strip the flesh that quickly. And neither should it be possible.” Morgausa was smiling. It looked smug, almost too long of a grin. “The Reach once had a hero. Pray you don’t end up facing the same end.”

“I will not, grandmother.” Elayne whispered, as the other Forsworn came out to look at the corpse of the dragon. “But I would appreciate any help I can get.”

“Manners and cunning!” The oldest hagraven cackled. “Your line surprises us, Morgausa. We thought it rotten and empty of promise.” 

Elayne met her grandmother’s eyes. There was a sense of camaraderie there. Some part of her immediately understood what kind of treatment they both must receive. “There is one other thing I have need of. Something that belongs to Drascua.”

“Her eye?” The hagravens cackled, a sound that made her want to run far, far away. “You play with fire, for that. Drascua replaced her eye with the stone of Mehrunes Dagon. She sees what he sees, now. She is one of his favorites. She will not part with it.”

“Then you won’t mind if I take it?”

“Dagon would demand no less.” Morgausa grinned, teeth showing. “Her coven is nearly empty, and no men have joined it. Only a few of her brood remain, and only stay with her out of obligation. Her life has value as a shamaness of Mehrunes Dagon. But if you have more need of it than her, the Reach understands. Life and death are coinciding in their requirements. Violence is assured for her and you. Though we must certainly safeguard our prize.” Morgausa clicked her tongue, and one of the shamans with a glittering headdress stepped forwards. “Gather a group of hunters. Guarantee the safety of this one, as she travels.” 

Elayne now had more friends. Of course, those friends thought she should run around with half her ass showing. So, not exactly the best of friends. But as she left Lost Valley that night, she had the company of five Forsworn. All of whom would be with her until she had accomplished her goal. And also help her with Drascua. It was almost better than she had hoped. It almost felt like she was family. 

“I wish I could fill a skirt half as well as she could.” She heard one of the hunters whisper to another. “Now those are child bearing hips.” Besides the ass she was sure everyone was staring at. Gods, this is why she didn’t become one of the Forsworn when she showed up. At least her blushing could be hidden behind that mask.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Currently Equipped Items:  
> Moonstone Anklets  
> Moonstone Thigh Bands  
> Soul Gem Navel Ring(Unknown Enchantment)  
> Soul Gem Nipple Rings(Unknown Enchantment)
> 
> The Next Price is unknown...


	14. Chapter 14: Princess Peaches

Markarth was a city that smelled of metal. A constant stink of charcoal and steam, as you walked by the forges. Half the city looked like it was dedicated to the constant forging of metals, and the shouting of foremen and laborers. The other half were homes carved into the mountain and a bustling marketplace full of haggling nords and bretons. It was a loud place, and the ways through the city were twisting and hot. No matter the day, the city was warmer than the land around it. Steam and heat from bellows kept it warm. 

A lot of people lived here, but Elayne only had a few ways to go for Eola. She knew that she had only one eye, and one ear was mangled. That should have been enough information to go on! And yet no one seemed to have information about a Breton woman with only one eye. No rewards for her capture, no signs of trouble. It was almost like she didn’t exist. But she was somewhere in this province!

Of course the guards had recognized the Dragonborn. Her mask kept her identity safe, for the most part. Her long dress was enough to conceal all of her ‘gifts’ from  _ Captured Dreams _ , and her heels wrapped enough to conceal the anklets. Thankfully the entire city was made of stone. It was easy to walk in high heels in this place. She had the help of one of the Forsworn that came with her, Innea. She was wearing her own set of ill-fitting clothing, a dusty set of robes and boots. 

“There used to be a tailor here.” Innea pointed at what was now a general store. “They had beautiful clothes and so many shoes.”

“Let’s split up for a time. I’m going to go to the palace, and you can try talking to some of the market sellers. The Dragonborn should at least respect the people at the palace. I have to make a showing of that. Maybe I’ll talk to Calcelmo. Meet up with me at the orc blacksmith in a couple of hours.” She had been selling gear all morning, the last of her Blackreach gear now just an orcish shield she was hoping to get a good price on. 

Innea nodded, and they split up. She stepped into the palace of Markarth, feeling eyes on her blue hair all the while. The steward tried to offer her a task, apparently to resolve a mining dispute. She refused, citing Alduin as a major concern first and foremost. But in this place she didn’t dare mention Eola. When she finally got to Calcelmo, he and his nephew were hashing out details for something. But both heard her coming with those shoes of hers. 

“Ah, I would recognize that sound anywhere.” Aicantar noted. “Dragonborn, a pleasure to see you.”

Calcelmo nodded. “Blackreach had some very unique architecture and designs. You’ve given me much to research.” His features softened. “And we are pleased to have been invited to your expedition. Though we lost a couple of men, we have brought back far more in terms of value.”

“Indeed!” Elayne spoke more excitedly. “Though we never got close to the city, I found what I needed in Blackreach. Something that the dwemer had been studying. I wanted to personally thank you and your nephew for helping me retrieve an Elder scroll.”

Calcelmo actually looked up from his books at that. Of course now he wanted the whole story! He and his nephew were both taking copious notes, and Calcelmo wanted to go back and see the tower it was taken from at some point. Though he also asked if she could return the elder scroll so he could see it functioning correctly. Elayne agreed, mostly because of the offer to pay her handsomely to do it. So she left his area with a lighter heart. People saying thank you always made her feel better. 

She almost skipped back to the forges and Innea. She also looked like she had found something. “Well?” She asked, excited.

“I found something.” Innea smirked. Her face was covered in soot. “I heard a rumor that the halls of the dead are currently closed. The priest of Arkay has shut the doors.”

“Why is that important?”

“I think we should see why. The only other rumors in this town are about some witch hunter and an abandoned house.”

“Well, did you talk to the witch hunter?” Elayne asked.

“He’s a vigilant of Stendarr. Just standing outside the house. He just wanted to know if I had seen anyone coming or going.” Innea shrugged. “Looks like a weakling.”

“Then we might help him later.” Elayne declared. The weak could be helped by the strong. And those that were weak often could be strong elsewhere. “Let’s just go see about the halls of the dead.”

There were two ways in. One was by the palace, and featured guards a plenty. Elayne went the back way, next to the Hag’s Cure. There was hardly anyone around, and she crouched to better look at the dwarven tumblers in the door. Elayne must have broken a couple lockpicks before she got the doors open, and she and Innea stepped inside. A muffle spell kept her heeled shoes quiet, but the halls were very large. The dwarven metal had been tarnished by smoke from rituals and offerings over the ages. None of the braziers were lit, and nothing seemed well used. 

“You look at the other exit, I’ll check the catacombs.” Elayne told Innea. The woman nodded, keeping one of the Forsworn bone daggers close at hand. Elayne herself didn’t draw her weapon, trusting that she was safe here. Her steps carried her towards the area that priests of Arkay prepared bodies for burial. Right away she saw what was the issue. Sections of a dead Nord had been carved away. It was completely similar to the carvings into Madanach’s dead body. “Found you.”

She heard something moving in the depths. The rush of air from something. “Not many would walk blindly into a crypt, smelling of steel and blood, but not fear.” Someone whispered. 

“I know who you are.” Elayne interrupted what was likely some kind of speech. She might be buying time to think about killing her. “Eola. A name you chose for yourself. But it’s not your real name. Glooredhel.” 

From the shadows, Eola stepped. She was wearing leather armor, very fine. Her skin was pale and gaunt, and annoyingly had bigger breasts than Elayne. Her good eye stared at her, the pale and wan left eye covered in scars. They were the same height, and similar in most other ways. “That is a very old name. One that has been forgotten.”

“I know who you worship, and how you do it.” Elayne glanced at the corpse. “But the woman I came for has a part to play. My name is Elayne. Or you might know me as the Dragonborn.” 

“You don’t much look like a hero. That dress looks like a tent on you.” Eola smirked. “Do you share the desire to eat?” Her stomach roiled at the thought of eating another dead person.

“I do not share that desire.” Elayne said clearly. “But I need you. You are more than a worshipper of the Prince of Decay and Darkness. You have meaning beyond worship. And I have need of you.”

“Greater purpose?” Eola laughed. “You sound like a priest.”

“You look like you’ve lived all of your life in the darkness. A true worshipper of the Daedra. But I worship a different prince. One that prizes knowledge and secrets.” She winked at Eola, who seemed on guard. Anyone else would be, if someone came up and started talking like they already knew them. “I know you crave human flesh. It’s important to you. One man’s most of all.”

Eola was giving her every ounce of attention she could. “What?”

“The man who ruined your family. Who you crave most of all.” Elayne pressed on. “I know some of his darkest secrets. Especially the one that will burn the most.” She waited a moment before taking off her mask. This required a human touch. “I would help you steal his entire kingdom. Take everything and leave him with nothing. A far more lasting revenge than killing and eating his corpse. You would steal his dignity, his legacy and his honor in one smooth moment.” 

Eola waited, her mouth open. It took a moment for her to stop staring. “Tell me more.” 

Anything more was cut off by a scream. The scream of a woman carried through the catacombs. It wasn’t the kind of scream one wanted to hear, and it was cut off by something else. It meant, most likely that Innea was gone. “Forsworn! Forsworn in the Halls! Guards, guards! Cut them off!”

Elayne frowned, as she and Eola could hear the thundering of boots. “Got another way out of here?”

“Feel like hiding inside a coffin?” Eola joked quietly. 

Elayne leaned forwards, and saw the true danger coming towards them. Not only guards were coming through, but the watchful gazes of Thalmor. They would know enough magic to see through any kind of invisibility spells. “Thalmor.” She whispered. “I have a way out, but you’re going to have to trust me.”

Eola gave a long stare with her good eye. “Better than my idea. I’ll trust you.”

Elayne reached into her bag and unfolded the wrapped book. Risking a candlelight spell, she could hear the boots thundering closer. “The skein is thin. Flesh reveals its secrets.” A guard’s helmet was coming around the corner when the entire world darkened. Eola was clutching her, and she still had no idea what prices the book was demanding anymore. The last time she had used it, the book didn’t place any kind of marker in her bag or items to show what it would cost.

Eola was taking deep breaths, shivering. “What was that? Where are they?” 

“Congratulations.” Elayne whispered. “You’re an Oblivion Walker now.”

“Is this Oblivion?”

“Something like that. It’s not home. And in this place, people believe that you, and most every Breton in the Reach is dead.” Elayne warned. “We just need a way out of the city and use the book to go back.”

“They lock the gates at night.” Eola whispered. “I don’t hear the priest, so let’s move.”

“You’re a hard woman to find, you know that?” Elayne muttered, her heels clicking on the floor as they moved to the exit. “I knew about you, but not where to find you.”

When they opened the doors next to the Hag’s cure, Elayne could see the sun already had set. “They’re going to shut the gates. We need a place to lay low.” Elayne motioned to Eola, feeling the warmth of the city’s forges keeping it toasty even in the cold season. “We can’t risk sleeping here or the silver-blood inn.”

“I know a place.” Eola considered. “It’s cursed. But in a pinch, it’ll do.”

“Time doesn’t match between this part of Oblivion and Mundus. It’s faster here. So even if we move quickly, time won’t pass very quickly back in Mundus.” Down below them, she could see men and women walking around in outfits that would seem bizarre or indecent normally. But she knew better. Not a single woman in this town was wearing pants. Or long skirts for that matter. “This world is different. We need to change clothes.”

Eola looked out amongst the people. “You have something like that?”

For a moment she considered letting Eola wear her very own maid dress. But Elayne dashed that thought, realizing that it wouldn’t hide Eola’s identity. In fact, the only thing in here that might was her short skirted elven armor. It had a helmet, and Eola’s face could be hidden with that. That only left two options for Elayne to wear, neither of which brought her much comfort. “Here.” She offered the elven armor. “Let’s get inside the halls and change.” 

“Afraid of being seen?” Eola chuckled. Still, the Breton came inside the halls and cast her own candlelight spell to light the area. “This armor is tiny.” Eola remarked, holding up the metallic fabric and moonstone to herself. 

“Just strip down and put it on!” Elayne hissed, her own dress coming off. Her breastband she pulled off without concern, her small breasts and their hanging gems glittering in the light of the spell. Out of her bag, she pulled the thin backless dress out. The strips of linen only covered sections of the front of her torso, and just to be sure she took off her moonstone heels and slipped into her backup set. They matched the elven armor, after all. 

Glancing over, she could see that Eola was still fully dressed. Her eyes were following every swaying motion of the soul gems on her body. “What are you waiting for?” Elayne hissed. “Strip!” 

Eola moved quickly, blushing over something. The skimpy elven armor unfurled upon her body, coming to the upper thighs. She was still blushing over something when Elayne shoved the helmet over her head, and helped lace her feet into the heeled shoes. “Oh, these are nice!” Eola was a natural with them. It was like she could move on them without much learning. When they stepped out of the catacombs, it was a different pair of women. Eola looked like a warrior, and Elayne a slut. Shivering, she tapped her heel on the stone. “Show me the way.”

“Will the guards challenge us?” Eola asked.

“Let’s avoid them. Take a way through the tunnels to avoid their patrols. Where is this hiding place?”

“It’s in one of the houses in the nicer part of town.” Eola promised. “So the fastest way is to cross some of the bridges and go near the temple of Dibella. Or we go under it and through the warrens and up through the marketplace.”

“You know the city best. Especially at night.” Elayne admitted. She didn’t like coming here. “Lead on.”

Their heels clicked as they walked the stone steps, drawing eyes to them. Fortunately, the only person they had to pass was a single nord walking along the bridges, his clothing a stained tunic. As they passed, the Nord looked at Eola’s bare thighs and grinned. Elayne figured she was safe, and stepped by right on her tail. The Nord’s hand grabbed a handful of her ass and squeezed. She had a very large ass, but his hand could handle an entire cheek! His pinky slipped under her short skirt, running along the skin before she could step away. Flush with embarrassment, she tried to ignore it and keep walking. Women in this world had to be able to handle this kind of thing. Biting her lip, she walked a bit faster to stay right behind Eola. 

The woman stopped in front of a doorway into the stone walls of Markarth that had no torches. A brand of the divines was on the door, but Eola brought out a key and opened it. They slipped inside, though it was for certain that the Nord saw them. Her bare legs were inside just as Eola shut the door, twisting the lock. “This place is cursed, but we can hide here long enough for time to catch up.” The other woman ran her hands down her sides, playing with the ends of her own tiny skirts. “How long would that be?”

Elayne caught her staring at her piercings as she made eye contact again. “Days. At least three days.” 

“I’d rather not risk any more time here. I saw people getting pulled on leashes out there. What kind of world is this?”

“I don’t know the full details, but in this world there is slavery, debauchery, and an acceptance for indecency in public. You can have sex with anyone anywhere, it seems.” Elayne said that, noticing that Eola still was staring at the soul gems hanging from her nipples and navel. The thin linen did nothing to hide their shape. “Maybe we should loot the house, before we go back into the other world.”

She could see at least one bedroom. The fireplace seemed to have wood in it, but there was a lack of debris that seemed familiar. The walls had their value stripped from them, and as she walked around the house, it seemed that every bit of value had been taken from it. Her heels were leaving small tracks in the dust, and Elayne stopped searching. “He’s been here.” She stated.

“Who?” Eola had taken off the helmet, letting her hair fall freely. 

“The other Dragonborn. He stripped the walls of enamel, like he did in all of the other places. We won’t find any loot to take.” She sat down on the dusty bed. “Come on, that just tells me that something was here, before he took it. Or he’s just that greedy.” Eola sat next to her, rubbing her ankles. 

“I’ve hidden in this place before. It’s got food, a warm place to sleep. It used to belong to my family.” The other Breton whispered. “I was born here.”

“Well, do you put the food in the house?”

“No. The ghost does.” Eola shivered. “Or something. I don’t feel it now, but I can always feel it watching me. I don’t like sleeping here.”

“Well, we have a choice. We can stay here, and risk being found.” Eola was still not paying full attention to her, instead staring at her soul gems. “My face is up here.” Elayne chose to remind her. 

“Oh!” Eola flushed. “Sorry, I’ve just never seen anything like that.”

“Every time I use this daedric artifact? I pay a price. Just as you will. It’s very helpful to step into another place and learn about what happened, but every time you do something will be added to you.”

“So the makeup isn’t your choice?” Eola chuckled. 

“What makeup?”

“Yours! No wonder you wear a mask, if your eyes look like that.”

Elayne cast a candlelight spell, fully aware of Eola staring at the soul gems swaying. Into her bag she dug, grabbing the small hand mirror. Her fingers fumbled, and the small reflective sheen was angled towards her face. The headband had changed! It had two gems in the center now, instead of one! Two thin bands of moonstone wrapped around her ears, another layer of material keeping it in place upon her. But her eyes had completely changed. Not their shape, but there was dark makeup applied around them, emphasizing her face. It made her look exactly like a painted whore! Her lips and cheeks were left alone, but between the blue hair and eyeshadow she looked like a whore of Wayrest. 

Taking a piece of fabric from her bag, she licked it and wiped at her eyes. The kohl came off, caking the fabric in black coloring. But she could see through the mirror that the black khol was simply reappearing on her face. Just like her blue hair, it was magically being restored. “Guess I’m wearing my mask.” 

“What is this artifact?” Eola asked, finally glancing at something other than her breasts. 

“It’s a black book. One of Hermaeus Mora’s artifacts, but Namira said that it was stolen. Or taken from another daedric prince. I don’t know more and haven’t found anyone in this province old enough to know. I know of one possible lead, but it’s in Solstheim or Morrowind. I can’t take months away just to take that chance.”

Eola nodded. “Namira has a ring. It sustains you, if you consume the flesh of others. Normally the human body refuses to do so. But I wore it for many years, until her sanctum was overrun by undead. She took it away from me, but my body is adapting poorly.”

“Well, where we are going, they eat a lot of nuts, dried fruit, and meat. And they’re going to like you. They think Daedra worshippers are the norm, and it’s part of how you’re going to beat Madanach.”

Eola finally looked at her eyes. “About that. Explain that to me.”

“Now that you know how this works and you’ve walked Oblivion with me, you’ll believe me when I tell you that I found out about your life. I saw where and how you died. Oh! And your house.” Elayne drew out the maid dress, holding it up. “You had been maimed even worse trying to kill Madanach. You lost your big toes.”

“That’s crippling.” 

“It was. You agreed to wear a collar for the other Dragonborn. Be his uh,” Eola was deeply interested in this. Elayne couldn’t help herself and drew out the collar. “You became his slutty little live in maid. I think he brought back corpses for you to eat.”

Eola held it up, blushing. Between that and the dress, she looked slightly disbelieving. “I would never become something so weak.”

“You lost the ability to walk without support. You couldn’t pivot or fight anymore. After travelling with him for a year, and being his lover you eventually capitulated and accepted.”

Eola frowned. “Alright, I can accept it as a possibility.” Elayne took the collar out of her hands, along with the maid dress and shoved them back into her bag. “Hey, those are mine, right?”

“You put those on and you might not be able to take them off.” Elayne warned. “I had to wear that maid dress for three days before we could pick the locks.”

“You wore that?” She smiled. “Okay, story for another time. Tell me how Madanach died here.”

“You tracked him down, at the border to High Rock. The last of the Forsworn were dragged back to your home here in the Reach where you enjoyed the last of them as food, before dying from Madanach poisoning his own flesh. Or rather, you were punished for consuming the flesh of your own kin.” 

“Namira doesn’t like that, no.” She admitted. “But I only started worshipping Namira after my mother died.”

Elayne folded her arms. “I obtained a genealogical record of your family. Your father’s family.”

“Not even I know who my father is.” Eola insisted. “My mother said it was just someone she met once.”

“She lied. Your father and mother were not married, but they did have a relationship. I confirmed it with his advisors that survived amongst the Forsworn. Between a genealogical record, proof from this world, and the journal of the one who killed you I know that Madanach is your father.”

Eola frowned. “No. My mother would have told me!”

“You’re his only surviving child. Namira told me this.” Eola would doubt her word, but the word of her Daedric Prince? “I had to eat some of Madanach to get that answer. Which, ugh.” Elayne was still grossed out by that fact. “He had been dead for months, looked like a Draugr.”

“So what if it is true?” Eola spat, angry. 

“Then you can steal it. The most perfect vengeance you can take is to leave him with nothing but the necessity of crawling to your feet and begging for mercy.” Elayne pointed out. Every Breton raised in High Rock was raised on tales of violent bloody succession. “As his only child, you can steal his throne right from under him. But that involves some sacrifice on your part.”

“Of course it would.” 

“Do you think I haven’t sacrificed? To become the Dragonborn, to fight the dragons and divines-know what else?” Elayne bellowed, angry. Eola shrank under her words. “Yes, you’ve been maimed. Yes, I know you’ve lost a lot of one of your ears. Lost favor with Namira.” The last stung, but she had to say it. “So don’t get your smalls in a twist when I tell you that you’re going to have to change. Living on scraps in the halls of the dead as your body slowly rots away was a very nice life, wasn’t it.” It wasn’t a question. Eola just stared at the floor. Elayne softened her tone, sighing. “So please listen to what I have to say. I am taking steps to ensure that the world is going to survive. You’re part of that, at least.”

“Speak your peace.” Eola offered, quietly. At least she was listening. “But don’t expect some gracious noble to appear out of nowhere.”

“I don’t want a noble.” Elayne clarified. “I want a warrior-priestess with one eye and enough rage to temper the rage of an entire people. You’re a princess of a kingdom that has risen and fallen a dozen times over the last two eras. Going back to Ard Caddach and the Longhouse Emperors. You’re the end of that line. A line of Bretons known for their rage, anger and defiance.”

“So, I don’t have to wear some prissy outfit and play nice with the Nords?”

“Oh you’ll have to play nice. I’m half Forsworn too, so you’re technically my princess. As are a couple of families in Wayrest on my father’s side. You inherit an entire civil conflict going back thousands of years.” Eola closed her eyes, thinking hard. “You’ve got a lot on your plate, but I have some good news.”

“Pray tell what is this good news?”

“The Forsworn venerate Namira greatly. A Warrior-princess who wore the Ring of Namira? I don’t think they could refuse you.”

Eola paced around the room, skewing her eyes in thought. Elayne was content to wait, shivering in the cold house. There was a large draft coming from somewhere, but right now it was important to wait for her reply. “I don’t like the idea of people knowing who I am. Or calling me by my birth name!” She spoke that loudly. “I promise to at least meet and talk. See if you’re telling the truth.” 

“Alright.” Elayne nodded. “Then let’s see the price we pay for walking through Oblivion.” 

“Wait.” Eola interrupted. “This corpse is new.” 

“Corpse?” Elayne boggled, as both of them cast Candlelight into the next room. A man had been killed there, his body nailed to the wall. “Oh he was tortured.” The bones looked broken by means other than weapons. 

“I don’t want to be here anymore.” Eola announced. “Let’s go back to our world.” She pointed at the pelvis, which looked like it had been ground down to nothing. 

Elayne drew out  _ Captured Dreams _ , the rune glowing differently this time. Every other time she had used it the rune had glowed a white color. This time it was a blue, and she wondered what kind of portent that was. “The price will appear as we travel. If you’re already wearing something it would replace, it might just lose it.”

“What does that mean?”

Elayne sighed, tugging at her dress. “I lost an entire set of Elven armor once. I won’t be losing my backup set. Take it off.” 

“Every time you use this, you do it in your smallclothes?”

“Elven armor is expensive!” Elayne hissed. “You can wear your armor if you want, but I’m doing this in things I can afford to lose.” Like a breastband and smalls. Eola handed back her armor and heeled shoes, slipping on her armor just to be a bitch about it. When they both were ready, Elayne and Eola pressed the symbol at the same time.

The world spun, brightening as the world shifted. The bed lost its dust, and the candles were lit. The smells of fresh bread filled the house, and it was warm from the light of the fire. Elayne could feel the warmth roll over her, the soul gems swinging freely. “Ahh!” Eola shrieked. Elayne smirked knowingly, already having guessed what happened. She lost another set of smallclothes to the book, but Eola lost everything. The woman was standing naked, jumping around and panicking. “My daggers!”

Elayne didn’t bother saying ‘i told you so’. She just checked her bag, running her hands over herself. She didn’t see anything new, but the book wasn’t the type to leave her alone. Eola had something wrapped around her waist, but Elayne would care about that in a minute. Her hand mirror came out, and she looked at her face. 

The headband had expanded yet again. Now it extended moonstone in the shape of elfin ears off of her own. They glittered, looking large. Worse, long spars of metal extended from the moonstone around her ears to follow her cheekbones. They went halfway to her nose, and looked nothing like any kind of gear she had ever seen. Her mouth looked different. The shape of it, at least. Perhaps the color, too. 

Rubbing her hand on them, a bit of color came off. Just like her eyes, some kind of effect was making up her lips now. Making them artificially another color. A deep red color, though the shape of her lips looked more like a pout when she put them together. “I won’t be able to show my face to anyone.” Elayne muttered, as she heard some kind of bell ringing. The source of the noise was Eola, who was frantically pulling on a spare set of smallclothes. “What happened to you?”

“That book took everything from me!” Eola called, wrapping a breastband about herself. “My weapons, my journals, my bag, and my armor!” Elayne realized that the woman was digging amongst the smallclothes she had stolen from her other self. No hard feelings, there. She took longer to find another set for herself. Eola had no worldly possessions of her own, since the book took so much. Odd, that it happened that way. It was kind of nice to see someone else suffering for the daedric artifact. 

“I warned you.” Elayne whispered. “I warned you that the book would pay a price.” 

“Now I’ve got nothing! Except this ungodly bell!” Eola turned to face her, letting Elayne see that her navel had also been pierced. A thin ebony and malachite chain wrapped around her waist, all returning to a large piercing that had a small glass bell attached. The little bell chimed quietly, but at a high pitch every time she moved. “Aren’t you going to help me?”

“I’m already helping you. You aren’t dead.” Elayne pointed out. “That Thalmor was probably using a Detect Life spell, so you were probably going to die if I didn’t get you out of there. One of your future subjects did die for you, letting us know they were coming.” Innea gave her life for this. “That is, of course if you’re still interested in being a warrior-priestess princess.”

“Well, yes.” Eola admitted. “Where did you get these smallclothes? They’re silk!” 

“Your house.” Elayne laughed, goodnaturedly. “Want a dress, too?” 

“I’m sure there are some things in here I can use.” Eola motioned to the rest of the house. “Come on, it’s only slightly cursed.”

“Cursed by what?”

There was a thump as a door opened somewhere. Angry yelling was carrying through the house, and both women flushed red. They had smallclothes and little else. “Hide!” Eola whispered, rolling under the bed. Elayne just quietly grabbed her elven armor, rolling the moonstone armor and fabric down her body. Following that, she pulled on her dragon priest mask. Her feet ached to be in her heeled shoes, but she just didn’t have the time. She handed a dagger to Eola, and then listened for the rest of the house.

“Stendarr bless me, I just heard noises!” A panicky man said.

“Be calm, Vigilant. You hired someone to come with you.” A gravely voice replied. “I’m here to put down your poltergeist once you find it.”

Elayne bit her lip, listening. There were two sets of boots in the front room, just feet from them. “This isn’t a poltergeist!” The first voice, the vigilant screamed. “Did you lock the door?”

“I barely touched the door. You must have locked it!” Both men seemed on edge. 

“I’m the one with the key!” The Vigilant bellowed. “But, where is it! I swear it was just in my pocket. You must have taken it!”

“I didn’t take anything, you crazy-”

“Shut up!”

“You shut up! I outta-”

Elayne leaned around the corner, casting a frenzy spell. It really didn’t matter who she hit. But immediately, both men screamed and started trying to kill one another. She really didn’t have to. Eola stepped up from behind her, throwing lightning bolts and firebolts into both men, hammering their forms until they both went down. “Namira blesses us.” She walked forwards, bell tinkling as she came over the bodies. “Now we must find his key, and we can leave.”

Elayne cast a candlelight spell, seeing that the men were at least familiar. Vorstag was a familiar face from the inn, a mercenary for hire. The other man wasn’t so familiar, but he was wearing the robes of a Vigilant. Perhaps the one Innea was speaking of. Both women were checking the bodies, but neither had the key. “How hard is it to break out of these doors by hand?”

“We would be better off using spells.” Eola insisted. “And that might be years. These doors have stood for centuries.”

“Well.” Elayne muttered. “I don’t know what is keeping us in here. The door seems to be magically enhanced in some way. It’s sealed.”

“ **It won’t open until you offer homage. Step deeper, thieves. You have something that belongs to something infinitely your greater.** ” A voice rolled from deeper in the house. “ **Both of you are thieves! Come down to the shrine, worms. Come and beg!** ”

Elayne shivered, the arches of her feet aching. All went quiet, but she knew the door was sealed shut. Shuddering, she ignored the bodies on the floor and sat in one of the chairs, pulling out her heeled moonstone shoes. Her feet immediately felt better once they were in them, and she finished wrapping the shoes up her leg as Eola dug through containers in all of the rooms. The Breton finally returned when she was finished lacing up her heels. All she had found was a pair of large boots, flopping on her feet. “That was a daedric prince.” Elayne pointed out.

“I’ve heard Namira’s voice often enough.” Eola spat. “This is worse. And I can’t find anything but boots in here.”

Elayne felt the soul gems vibrate, her nipples radiating feeling. ‘ **_Make her your slave. Soon she will bear a collar with your name upon it._ ** ’ Gasping for breath, she came back to the room around them, seeing Eola looking in kitchen cupboards for clothing or weapons. ‘ **_It will either be you or her, Thief of my skin._ ** ’ Every word was enunciated with vibrations, and Elayne was left a shuddering mess in the chair she was sitting in. Elayne tried to make sense of things, but Eola returned before she could winnow out what exactly she was dealing with. 

“Got any spare armor in that bag of yours?” The other Breton shivered. “We might have to fight.”

“No.” Elayne answered. “Not unless you want to be hung from a lamppost. I have a set of Forsworn armor in the bag.” Eola looked like she was going to consider it. “You’ll get your own soon. Here, put this on.” She threw the maid dress at her, and drew out the small heels she had gotten from Belethor. “Shoes that fit?”

“My friends owns the general store. Once we are out of here, we can get some spare gear.” Eola assured, pulling the maid dress over her body. She didn’t lock it, but her smallclothes were clearly pressed on through the tight fabric. Eola was looking very uncomfortable, as she sat down in a nearby chair to slip the heels onto her feet. “Thank you.” She whispered, looking over herself. 

“Don’t worry, I’ve dealt with Daedric Princes before.” Elayne promised. “Let’s go.” Through the house they went, into a basement where the quality of objects started decreasing the further they went. Damaged and destroyed objects became more common, and the twin pairs of heels echoed in the darkness. Lit only by candlelight spells, they both had blades out they went down into what seemed to be a part of the Dwarven ruins. It went deep. The stone got a bit rough, but Eola didn’t seem to have trouble in her set of heels. Elayne kept looking back, catching her fiddling with the fluttering skirts. She smirked at that. Those ghosting touches along the ass were totally frustrating. “You alright?” She asked.

“Fine.” Eola replied quickly. “As well as can be, given this place.”

A cold wind blew, and with it both women felt their magicka drained away to nothing, the candlelight spells going out. In the dark tunnel, only one light remained. A cold blue glow coming from around the corner up ahead. Heels clicked as they stumbled forwards, coming finally to a single chamber. It was a large square, with old rusted metal frames upon all four walls. A single shrine stood in the middle of the room, and it looks like a rusted mace sat alongside whips and chains. “What in Oblivion?” 

“Molag Bal.” Eola whispered, clenching her legs together. 

The shrine glowed, drawing both of their eyes to it. The voice that came from everywhere and nowhere seemed loud, pressing upon them from every angle. “ **You come before the Lord of Domination. You were mine at birth, by the blood of your father. My previous champion. You were promised to me, covered in the blood of your twin. You have played with the children’s god long enough. And then you, who bear my stolen skin. Beg for forgiveness, or you shall die here.** ”

Every word made the objects attached to Elayne rattle and vibrate, sending her to her knees. She caught herself with one hand, but the damage was done. She had knelt to the lord of Domination. Eola, paler than normal, followed suit. “Elayne?” She whispered. “What do we do?”


	15. Chapter 15: There can Only Be One

Elayne accepted that she was kneeling in front of a shrine to Molag Bal. Eola was at her side, the one good eye staring at the blue-tinged glow that was the only source of light for either of them to see by. Her magicka hadn’t even begun to recover enough for a candlelight spell. It must have been a drain effect, keeping her magic from coming back at all. Plus, she thought, even if they ran the doors were locked. Where would they go? There was no running. No, they had to face him. Narrowing her eyes, she stared at the glowing light. “I bear your stolen skin?”

“ **The book you carry. A vestige of mortality took from me skin. A great battle occurred and another Daedric Prince intervened on their behalf. They took my skin with them when they returned to Mundus. I had always wondered what had become of it. I should have known Mora would make use of it.** ” 

“ _ Captured Dreams _ is made from your skin?” Elayne shivered. 

“ **You are not touching Apocrypha as you walk Oblivion. Mora was clever. My power is stolen to use that book. Now that I see it, I can feel the drag upon Coldharbour every time you use that book. Two worlds. Two lives, their souls entwined!** ” The laughter rolled across the walls. “ **Whereas this mortal was marked at birth in the blood of her twin, you are of the blood of Akatosh. Normally I would take back what is mine, and drag you down to Coldharbour to pay for your insolence.** ”

“That would serve little help to you.” Elayne challenged. “Your worshippers beg for vengeance. They rage against the Nords, and stew in squalor and suffering without any sign that you favor their fight. Now that I know the truth, I understand. Madanach was your previous champion. But he was defeated.”

“ **His soul is old and rotten, fed lies until his ego burst open the mountains along with that of his wives and children. All but one.** ” Eola shivered, worried. “ **He did not have the courage to do what needed to be done. His weakness led to my mace being left here to rot. You have consorted with a lesser prince long enough, worm. Swear now before me that you shall forget Namira, and serve me instead. As you were intended! As your entire line has sworn in secret for thousands of years!** ” 

“But I lead the cult of Namira!” Eola dared to say. 

“ **Insolence! You dare spit upon my favor? Your line is blessed to dominate and control all that lies before you. No matter the scale, no matter the cost. Your line is promised all that they desire will come under their control.** ” The voice thundered, the blue light flaring. “ **Namira deserted you, and left you to starve. To die nameless and forgotten in the darkness. Your soul was never hers. It. Was. Mine.** ” 

“He’s right.” Elayne stated. “When I offered to save you, Namira stated that she cared little for the life of one worshipper. Even the leader of an ancient cult. She already knew your soul was marked for someone else.”

Eola looked around, at anything other than the glowing blue shrine. “I would refuse you.”

“ **My mace lies rusted and rotten. It has not drawn blood in too long, Dragonborn. You need a way to stop Alduin for good. More than just kill him, but stop him from ever returning.** ” The voice said smoothly, for once not rattling and vibrating all of the bits attached to her. “ **His soul is greater than most. I doubt even Talos himself could contain him. But it would not be the first time a Dragon was dragged to Coldharbour. Perhaps we could make a deal, mortal. You want my mace. But I would only allow my champion such a grace.** ” 

“I am no Ysmir, no Talos.” The Greybeards said his original name sometimes. Old scrolls of his were still preserved upon High Hrothgar. “I am not going to be like the Aedra. I seek answers not found in their depths. When I knew I had to slay something Aedric, the first thing I did was look amongst the Daedra.”

“ **You are a weasel! Mora has a champion! He has never chosen another all of these eras. He keeps his pet on a tight leash, Always has. I offer you a choice, Mortal.** ”

A portal to oblivion opened, and a number of items tumbled out. Moonstone armbands, bicep bands, chains and some kind of thin mesh bit of moonstone that barely would cover someone’s body. A thick, glowing collar made from moonstone was in the pile, words in elven script running across its surface in quicksilver. There was more, but she couldn’t identify what it was. It looked complicated, difficult to remove. “The prices…” She realized. “All of them.”

“ **By using my book, this is your future. To be a slave to something you do not yet know. Every time you use it, you pay the price. It was Hermaeus Mora that decided the place you travel to. He knew that by the end you would become a little plaything. Hardly able to decide for yourself.** ” The dark laughter tugged on her piercings, making Elayne squirm. “ **Become my champion, and you won’t have to become a slave. But you will be forced to enslave others, as worlds collide. If you don’t want this, it is simply too late. The worlds are already blending together around a focal point. You. Though it weakens my own power to let it happen, I find this to be entirely appropriate.** ” 

Elayne blinked, taking in that information. “I would eventually become that? My other self?”

“ **Your habits have already changed, and if you want to take steps to prevent your assimilation with your weaker and crippled self in that world, Take of my power and become my champion. You will need more than weapons and prophecies to defeat Alduin.** ” The voice stopped rampaging through the room, and instead whispered in her mind. ‘ **_Dominate that which was stolen from me. Make her beg to be yours. Only one free woman will be leaving this place. One of you shall be collared before that door may open. Of course, I am whispering to you both. I told her that my mace must taste your heart’s blood before the door may open. Or her own._ ** ’ 

Elayne and Eola made eye contact, measuring up one another. She at least had her elven armor. Eola had a maid dress and a basic sword. But her Destruction Magic was far better. Eola was breathing faster, her dress strained around her breasts. They both knew the Daedra. They could lie, but at the end of the day a mortal could only entertain a Daedra. Elayne didn’t even know what to say. What could one say? How could you explain all of this! She herself was still putting it all together. 

Molag Bal didn’t give them time to decide, his shrine going dark and with it all of the light. It was like a signal to both of them. Heels scraped and they both moved. Elayne backed up, moving down the tunnel and towards the thin light that was at its end. Eola was going for the mace, of course. Elayne just ran into the basement, her magicka still not returning. It would come down to martial skill. But she had things Eola did not. She reached into her bag, drawing out a potion of invisibility. It wouldn’t last long, but it wouldn’t have to. Eola was coming. 

Invisible, Elayne watched as the woman walked, barefoot and very quietly. She had taken off her heels before coming after her. In one hand, she held the sword she had been given. In the other, a cruel rusty mace. Without armor she seemed to have decided that this would be the best way of winning. But oh so quietly the Breton moved past her, into the rest of the basement. Elayne didn’t wait for another chance. Her dagger of paralysis flashed out, cutting Eola in the thigh. 

It didn’t work. Now her invisibility was broken, and she and Eola were facing off. No magic, no lies. Weapons flashed, her armor doing a good job but the rusty mace catching her in the side of the head. That rattled, but her strikes finally worked. Bleeding heavily from above her ear, Eola fell over. Frozen. The paralysis took effect, even though it took four strikes. Elayne took the mace, and the other weapon back. “Stop fighting me and follow me. Molag Bal told you one thing, and me another.”

Eola’s eyes rolled, watching the mace. Elayne just shoved the rusty thing into her bag, putting away all of the weapons. “I didn’t want to fight you! When that wears off, get your ass back to the shrine.”

Elayne didn’t give her any time to think about it. She just stomped off, heels clicking on the stone. She did light a torch, though. She didn’t want to trip. Being able to see the shrine didn’t make it any better. Old blood stains were on the walls, stains of sacrifices from older times. Of the pile of things she had seen tumble from Oblivion, only the collar was left. The gilded moonstone was left open, concentric rings of material ready to snap shut permanently upon her neck if she wanted it. Her own neck itched, knowing it was right there. A collar with her name on it. 

One of them needed a collar before they could leave. Was Molag Bal lying? He had to be lying to one of them. Or maybe he just wanted to be entertained. The Daedric prince probably wasn’t lying about Eola belonging to him. Namira hadn’t had any love for the woman, even though she led the coven. So that wasn’t a lie. 

It was some minutes later before Elayne heard noise. Eola decided to show up in her musings, the maid dress cut along her stomach. The other cuts were along her thighs and arms. “Sorry.” She stated. 

“It’s a Daedric Prince.” Elayne said. They had only met today, but she felt like she understood Eola better than most. Someone that didn’t quite know where she stood. A lost soul. “What did he whisper to you?”

“That you were going to kill me and become his champion.” Eola said without fear. 

“He told me he said that to you. But he didn’t say that to me.” Elayne considered quickly, glancing around at the small room. “The Daedra can lie. And they may have lied to us about certain things. We just need to figure out what those details are.” The shrine remained oppressive, but silent. Molag Bal wasn’t something she could afford to trust in any way. “Even his champion seemed to have been betrayed by him. Madanach had taken the Reach, but was betrayed by someone. His kingdom didn’t last three seasons, and he seemed to be doing things fairly. Or so people claim. I’ve heard both sides, but most people think it was bad for everyone.”

“My,” Eola almost admitted it. “Madanach was the previous champion. But he was defeated, and the mace is here, defiled and rusting away without a hand to wield it. It needs souls to rejuvenate its connection to Oblivion.”

“Where did you hear that?”

“That’s what he’s been whispering to me about.” Eola admitted, looking at the shrine. “Whispering about Madanach and the mace.”

“But there won’t be any souls to fuel it until we get out of here.” Elayne pointed out. “The trap here isn’t the mace. It’s part of it.” Elayne still didn’t trust Eola. The woman was a daedric worshipper. “What do you think?”

She never saw the dagger coming. Or maybe she did, and accepted that it was the way. One nick on her leg, and the Breton froze. Elayne grabbed her arms, shoving them into one of the racks along the walls. It was enough, as she locked the left wrist on the rack. Eola unfroze just in time to try to get her right arm free, and Elayne had to wrestle the arm into the rack. It clicked, and she stepped back from the thrashing woman. “Bitch! You know something more.”

“I found you. I fucking found and saved you!” Elayne yelled, voice cracking. “I am the one who walked Oblivion and found what I needed! Now you’re assuming that I’m trying to kill you over something your father has done!”

“Don’t call that man my father!” Eola roared back, screaming on her own. “He did nothing for me!” She kicked her feet, arms contained in the rack. “I raised myself! I found myself! I don’t belong to anyone or anything! I clawed and ate my way into favor, and became leader of the entire cult!”

“You were starving in the dregs and catacombs, scratching at the darkness! I will drag you, kicking and screaming with me because I need a princess of the Reach! I will give you over to the Forsworn, or I will drag you with me until you have seen enough of the sun that you are no different than any of them!” Elayne was yelling louder than Eola could. “I am going to defeat Alduin and you will be what I need you to be or I will break you over my knee!”

Eola laughed, her eyes manic. “I’d like to see you try! I don’t need to be a champion of Molag Bal! I’m already champion of Namira!”

Elayne wracked her mind for solutions. Eola had challenged her. And Molag Bal wasn’t lying when he showed her the collar. She decided right then, that specific claim was the truth. Molag Bal wouldn’t release them until one of them wore a collar. Her hands dug into her bag, the red ebonite coming out. Eola wouldn’t just have to wear it, she would have to be dominated. Or Elayne could be the one to accept the gilded moonstone collar, and spare Eola. A Nordic hero would sacrifice. A Breton hero would take what they needed. No matter the cost. Their magic was still drained, leaving her unable to cast spells. 

Eola stood on her feet, glaring. The shrine lay empty, devoid of life or interest. Elayne dug into her bag some more, grabbing what she thought might do the trick. “Eola. You will be my bitch. I’ve decided it. This collar? It doesn’t come off until I say it does. The Dragonborn in the other world designed it personally. Only someone perfectly fluent and understanding of the dragon tongue can remove it, once it is closed around your neck. Before the end of this night, you will be begging me to lock it around your neck.” 

“There is no way in any plane of Oblivion I would accept that.” Eola said, her one eye locked on the Ebonite. With only the one eye, she never saw Elayne lifting her skirt until it was too late. “Elayne? What are you doing?” She sounded worried. With something like the Stick, she should be. Elayne herself was stewing something fierce just holding it. Her nipples were like rocks, which got harder as the other woman’s smallclothes hit the floor. 

The shrine was glowing slightly, as Eola started panicking. Her legs kicked, but Elayne just pulled herself forwards and pressed her legs until they were stuck folded up between their torsos. Breathing hard, she brought the Stick forward until it was ghosting along her inner thighs. “Are you my bitch, Eola?” Elayne warned. “Last chance.”

“Fuck you!” 

“Your choice.” Elayne said, dark laughter echoing from the shrine in response. Oh, she did. It took an entire night and more with her in the rack. Elayne had to take a break and use the Stick for herself, just to make it through. But the next afternoon, they were finally able to leave that place. Eola bought herself new armor and a new weapon, but she kept her eyes low whenever Elayne so much as glanced at her. Around her pretty lithe neck was a red ebonite collar. It glowed with power, and she knew that somehow deep within something had changed. She was not going to be a slave. And at her belt, she kept the rusty mace. Molag Bal was a prince of his word. There could only be one champion.

Meanwhile, in Whiterun, Lydia returned home to Breezehome, carrying all of the spoils of war. Her collar she kept hidden as best she could until she got to Breezehome, before the almighty itching on her skin drove her to remove her armor and just sit on her bed, angry and bitter. She was a housecarl, damn it! She was no slave! She wasn’t! This collar was unjustly forced upon her! Why had Elayne gotten hers off, and Lydia had to keep her own!

Growling, she reached into the bottom of her bag, where she kept her personal keepsakes. One of which she took out to glare at. Just to spite the damn book, she had taken one of the pages within it. Blank, of course. It was ancient, but didn’t feel aged. “You’ve caused me trouble, book.” Like arguing with a book would do anything. 

But then ink started flowing out from the page, glowing for a moment before sinking back into the paper. ‘ _ All knowledge has a price. _ ’ The words flowed beautifully across the page, almost in Elayne’s handwriting. But it was too perfect for that. 

“Are you alive?” Lydia dared to ask. 

‘ _ Do you desire revenge? Does your collar weigh down upon your undeserving head? _ ’

Lydia growled, staring at the page. “Don’t toy with me! Ysmir take you, I won’t stand for riddles or double talk!”

‘ _ What do you want, then? _ ’

A most curious question. Lydia rolled her shoulders, just trying to decide what should be her response to a scrap of paper, of all things. “I don’t want this kind of life. I am a housecarl. Not a heroic echo.”

‘ _ Perhaps a deal can be made. For a price, of course. _ ’

“Always a price, and always an offer! But everything is just a lie.”

‘ _ All truths are simply what your eyes tell you is real. A housecarl is only supposed to value what their master does.’ _

“Perhaps I don’t share the same values as my Thane.” She admitted it. Gasping, she realized she admitted it. It was as near to breaking an oath as any Housecarl might give. But, did Ulfrik Stormcloak not do the very same to Torygg? He swore a vow, too! There was only so much one person could take before they were forced to action! “I,” She faltered. “I want justice.”

‘ _ Speak your justice, Nord. Those beyond the veil will name your price. _ ’

Lydia named what she wanted. It was crude, but it was exactly what her Thane deserved. Especially for how she so readily accepted the words of Daedra.

  
[Those of you reading this,  _ You _ may decide the price that Lydia will choose to pay for her justice. Your comments and input shall decide her fate…]


	16. Chapter 16: Movements in the Dark

“Where are you going?” Eola grumbled. “Falkreath is the other way.”

“We aren’t going to Falkreath.” Elayne told her, glancing again at the ebonite collar around her neck. “There is a clearing here. Just through the trees is one of my caches of supplies. I want you to stay here in the clearing, keep a watch out. I’ll be back soon.”

“There was a bandit fort just down the road a mile.” Eola considered. “Been here for years, you shouldn’t go alone.”

Elayne gave the other Breton woman a glare. “Aam!” The Dragon word was keyed to the Ebonite collar, which immediately shocked Eola. Not hard, but enough to remind her that the one in control was Elayne. “You set up camp here. We already killed the bandits last week. Hard fighting, but my housecarl Lydia is one of the best combatants in Whiterun. Cut through them hard.” She waved her hand. “I’ll be back soon. Besides a bear or two, these woods should be safe.”

“Fine.” She growled. “If someone dies out here, bring back the corpse!”

How cruel a statement. Elayne moved through the woods, careful on her heels. Only a couple minutes into the hills and she was in another small clearing, up against the base of the mountain. A spring covered in moss was at one end of the clearing, and against the stone of the hill a door was hidden. You couldn’t see it unless you pressed right up against it. She knew the password, and entered without any fanfare. This place was mostly empty, anyways. It was quiet, but the fires were lit. 

“Did you succeed?” The sultry voice of Astrid came from her room, just inside the maze of corridors. “You’ve been gone for weeks.”

“My mark is dead.” Elayne clarified. “He was killed inside a camp of bandits, and the bandits were completely unharmed. The only one to die that night was Maluril.” 

“Excellent.” Astrid sounded at least pleased. “Come into my office. There is a sensitive task that I must talk to you about.”

Elayne stepped in, her heels clicking on the stone. But the Astrid she once knew was a very different person this time. Gone was her shrouded armor, and instead she wore some kind of mockery of what an assassin should wear. It was tight, and had a skirt that only dared to cover the thighs. Black and red heels sat upon her feet, enchanted and silent as she took steps around the room. “Uh, nice shoes!” The other world was bleeding into this one! Just like Molag Bal said! Astrid would never wear impractical high heels!

“Oh, these old things? Quiet, I must admit. Enchanted long ago, when I was much more proud to show my legs in public. But my husband likes it, so wear them on occasion.” Astrid ran a hand across her heel’s spike. It looked like old blood had been stained upon it. “I like your shoes quite well. I’ve only seen Thalmor with them.” Her eyes twinkled, their dark orbs focusing upon her. “Where did you get such pretty things?”

“A dead Thalmor.” Elayne lied smoothly. “In Dawnstar. She was left for dead.”

“We don’t need that kind of attention upon our family, initiate. Be careful with your blades. But good work. Now, we have another task. One that the Thalmor are paying for. One of them has performed the Black Sacrament, and we have answered. I very much would hate to hear that our next kill was spoiled by the actions of a hero.” She said the word mockingly. 

“The Thalmor want us to kill someone? Why?”

“They want a very specific person dead. Killed in a way that paints the Empire as the culprit.” She took out her dagger, plunging the simple steel affair into the symbol for Dragonsreach in Whiterun. “Elenwen of the Thalmor has performed the Black Sacrament. She wants Jarl Baalgruuf the Greater to be killed, and the empire to be blamed.” Astrid’s eyes flicked to her own. “You are a thane of his court, are you not?” 

Elayne’s heart hammered. The only place she called him in these land was Breezehome. Her aunt’s tent was a poor place to consider a home, lacking comforts. “Why does she want him dead?”

“Does it matter? She has paid three thousand septims up front. If we succeed, it will be that much again. We cannot afford to fail.” This place was a ruin, and the few people that were here had expensive tastes.

“It does matter!” Elayne overrode her. “It fucking does!”

“Are you attached to your liege?” Astrid asked, concerned. “He will not be so much longer.” Elayne’s mind raced, thinking of the young boys that Baalgruf had as heirs. Or his drunken warmongering brother, who wanted to join the empire and fight the stormcloaks. “Calm yourself, darling. You have done well in killing that mage. He was well hidden, and you managed to chase him down. Now we have need of you again. You must go to Whiterun, and do exactly as I tell you. You have killed and taken souls for Sithis, Elayne. You joined the Dark Brotherhood and there is no backing away from such a familial connection.” Astrid’s hand caressed the hilt of the dagger embedded in the table. “Dragonborn or not. Hero, thane, adventurer? None of those titles matter to me. For to me, you are like a daughter. A daughter-in-arms and a daughter to Sithis. We are too few to treat each other lightly.” 

“Tell me what I have to do.” Elayne whispered, her neck feeling oddly heavy. 

Lydia had put away all of the gear, sold all of the loot and had finished taking care of all of the tasks left to her. She had even been to Farengar, and sold some of the odd staves and soul gems to the man. She was quick about it, unlike her Thane. Elayne could lose herself in haggling at every market stall. The woman’s obsession with not disturbing even the newly dead or taking very much for herself would make her a martyr by Imperial standards. But damn her, they barely had enough for their first few months of work. On one occasion they had slept in a barn because Elayne had spent their coin getting someone else out of debt. She was the definition of selfless hero. 

A Daedra-worshipping selfless hero. The Divines supposedly spun the Dragonborn from the aether into the world, to save the mortals that were within. But would the Aedra accept her work and sacrifices? Elayne didn’t even bother looking for an Aedric weapon that could hurt Alduin! She never even considered it, when it was those same Aedra that spun her soul into being! Fuming, she paced back and forth in Breezehome and just tried not to be angry about it all. The collar around her neck was a constant reminder of daedric meddling. She had done all the tasks assigned to her with efficiency and fairness. There was a literal mountain of coins hidden under the floorboards in the alchemy room. More than seven thousand of them, enough that the little chest needed her full weight to close before she could nail the floorboard back down. Elayne wouldn’t be back for days! 

Passing the kitchen table, she looked down at the crumpled paper she had made a deal with. Did that make her a Daedric worshipper? “No.” She affirmed aloud. “I have made no deal, paid no price.” 

The paper seemed to loosen and tighten in response to that statement. Lydia shivered, knowing that on her table was a piece of a daedric artifact. Two more were underneath the alchemy room, underneath the chest itself. The Daedra were dangerous, and fickle. Playing with their attentions was risky. Lydia had spent hours in the temple of Kynareth, but all that did was remind her that her nipples still hurt from their piercings. Listening to Hiemskr was also a bust, not helping her feel comfortable in her actions either. She had even visited the halls of the dead, to venerate her parents. It still brought no comfort. Groaning, Lydia pulled her armor back on. There was only one thing that would calm her heart after all of this. “I need a drink.” 

The Bannered Mare was her favorite place to drink. The Huntsman was full of hunters and felt elitist. They didn’t always love the guards being in their business, and Lydia never quite felt welcome there. Jorrvaskr was fun to drink at on occasion, but Lydia didn’t feel like testing her steel today. Drinking back in the guard barracks just felt like a step backwards after all she had worked for. So, on went her armor and covered the collar and her piercings. Which also hurt, but she wasn’t a milk drinker. She could handle the pain. Instead of the full greaves, she decided to wear a nice set of pants. Insulated for the cold, and better than armor if she got lucky. Which, she was certainly hoping to do so.

Her feet carried her towards the brightly lit building, boots crunching gravel on the stairs. They must have put some on the muddy roads. That meant travelers were in town, perhaps more than the usual folk. Better than another tumble with Mikael. That reminded her of another reason to be annoyed by her wayward Thane. She had slept with Mikael for the answer to the riddle in that damned book. He was not the greatest. He had experience, sure. But the damn bard only cared for his own pleasure. Mikael was playing, but not with any gusto. Lydia did a once over of the room, seeing the winter tradesmen with their furs, the odd courier. At the back table, there were some visitors she did not recognize. But they had large weapons, one of which was an Ebony war axe. Rare to see, and well used by the look of it. 

“Mind if I join you?” She asked, stepping over to the table. It was just a pair of people, bulky and large. The man was definitely a Nord, though it looked like he had stood in too many snowstorms as a child. His skin was pitted by the cold, something you usually saw on older men. It was definitely a sign of experience. The woman looked soft, almost Imperial soft. Her skin was perfect, but Lydia could see past that. Her hands were callused so heavily that the ebony war axe on her back must have been used daily. Her shoulders were wide, and the woman was tall. Slightly taller than Lydia, actually. Few women were. 

“Not at all.” She said smoothly. “You look like one of those adventurers.”

“Something like that.” Lydia offered, sitting down. “I’m Lydia.”

“Stalf.” The man offered, a single elven longsword at his hip. “From Solstheim.”

“Fura. I was born in Whiterun, but raised on the road.” The woman smiled with her lips. “Stalf here may be carved from the ice itself, but he makes for an excellent shieldbrother.”

“Don’t call me that.” Stalf muttered. But he was smiling as he did so. “I don’t use a shield.”

“You’re still good to have at my back.” Fura mentioned. Under the table, Lydia felt a hand on her thigh. “Mind if I buy you a drink?” 

She felt a rush, right after she was touched by the hand. Besides Mikael, it had been a while. The signals she was getting were far from unwanted. “Please. A mead is very needed.” Since breakfast, in fact. Besides the odd color in their eyes, Fura and Stalf were fun to talk to. More interesting than Mikael, by far. Elayne wouldn’t be back for at least another two days. Maybe more. So she invited them home. It just felt right. Normally she would rather take a lover anywhere but Breezehome, but tonight was different. She felt lighter than air, and eager to see what was coming. 

As soon as the door to Breezehome shut, Lydia was slammed onto the kitchen table. Her pants were slid to the floor, and she could feel the page of  _ Captured Dreams _ digging onto the crack of her ass. Lydia was excited. She wanted this! She wanted to get laid, get her focus back, and she had earned this. Her legs were pulled apart, and the entire table shuddered as Stalf brought himself into her. 

Lydia could feel her body pushed by his manhood. His muscle strained, but she oddly felt nothing. At most, a slight tickle along her thighs. “Are you even inside? Get in there!” She growled. The man above her glared back at her, his orange eyes focusing upon her form. The table started sliding back and forth, Stalf growling as it was obvious he was working hard. And yet, Lydia could feel nothing. Perhaps her hips being hammered, but there was no rush of feeling. No flush of blood in response to being taken. Looking down, she could see Stalf moving in and out of her, and he wasn’t a small Nord! She was being parted, her body barely able to take him! But still, she felt nothing! Nothing except the feeling of his legs brushing her thighs. And the crumpled piece of paper wedged between her and the table top. 

“Oh no!” Lydia wasn’t stupid. She made a deal with a Daedra. There was a price that was paid. Her price was obvious. “Fuck!” She felt nothing from sex. She could still feel the raging fire within, the desire to get off. But there was a man above her, ravaging her and she felt nothing!

“She’s ready.” Stalf growled. “Let’s eat.” He opened his mouth, his teeth sharper than usual. Lydia felt cold, knowing somewhere in her mind that she was in danger. But the glowing eyes of Fura were above her as well, and she felt herself slipping away into the orange orbs. 

“I want to keep her.” Fura purred, her own sharp teeth exposed. “Let’s keep her!” Both of the vampires bit her at the same time. Through the rush of pain, sharp and extreme, she finally could feel the pulsing dick inside of her. To her undying shame, she screamed in joy. She had gone from cold nothing to complete fullness in a single moment. As the vampires fed upon her, Lydia came. She came and she came again, whimpering as the pain brought her to greater heights. The only clear thought she had was that the Daedra were far crueler than she originally presumed. 

“M’T-thane.” She whimpered. She hoped that Elayne would suffer for this. The Daedra were terrible creatures, and this was all their fault. That was the only clear thought, as she saw Fura come away from her shoulder with blood all over her lips. Both women made eye contact, as well as eye contact with the giant golden scroll that was on top of the cupboards. It didn’t fit in any of the chests, or under the floorboards. 

“Let’s take that, too.” Fura grinned. “I think I’ve seen something like that before. A very long time ago.” 

Stalf raised his head, Lydia feeling entirely weak and woozy. His lips were also wet with her blood. “She tastes good.” He grinned. “I think she liked being bitten.”

Fura patted her cheek, her muscles slackening and vision dimming. “You’ll be such a cute thrall, Lydia. Welcome to your new life.” Her laughter was terrible, and the last thing she knew before blacking out. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elayne:   
> Moonstone Anklets   
> Moonstone Thigh Bands  
> Navel Piercing  
> Nipple Piercings  
> Moonstone Headband
> 
> Eola:  
> Ebonite Collar  
> Ebonite Bracelets
> 
> Lydia:   
> Moonstone Collar  
> Nipple Rings  
> Navel Ring


	17. Chapter 17: Swing Life Away

Breezehome felt cold when she and Eola first arrived. The fire wasn’t stoked, and the door wasn’t locked. That was completely unlike Lydia. More importantly, her house looked thrashed. Eola whistled as they came in. “Looks like someone had a good time.”

“What do you mean?”

“Smells like sex and blood.” Eola pronounced, smiling. Elayne scoffed. Lydia was too professional for that. “And I see plenty of blood.”

Her table was a write-off. All four legs were slightly bent, as if too great a weight had pressed upon them. The table had bloodstains on it, as well as other stains she didn’t want to think about. “Oh, Lydia! Not on the table! We eat on this table!”

Eola laughed hard, her one good eye tearing. “You’re going to complain about your table when your place is this thrashed?” 

“Shush.” She tutted. “You’re stuck with me until you learn enough manners that you make a good princess.” And see the sun enough that her skin didn’t look halfway desiccated. The Reachmen would never tolerate someone that didn’t look like they belonged outside. “Now, sit down while I find Lydia.”

Breezehome was small. It was explored quickly, and what she found troubled her. Lydia’s traveling bag was gone, as were her weapons and potions. Her laundry was still here, but all of the spare gold they kept for food was gone. It felt like she had been robbed, but it was clear that Lydia had been here. Something seemed wrong about all of this. The secure floorboards were intact in the alchemy room, but it looked like someone had ransacked the alchemy chest. Only a few moldy flowers were left at the bottom. “I’m going to have to go ask the guards if they’ve seen her.” She would look under the floorboards later. 

Eola nodded. “My feet are killing me. How are you wearing these all the time?” Her feet had developed blisters, as she had kept heels on the entire trip back. Elayne had too, when she first started wearing heels. But now, it just felt nice on her feet. Well, comfortable was a good word. 

“Practice. And restoration magic when you have blisters.” Elayne pointed to the house. “Wait here for me to return. I’ve got to go talk to the guards, and do a lot of other things.” Elayne grinned, looking at her. “No hanky panky. Stay in my house, I’ll be back soon. Aam.” The dragon language for ‘serve’ kicked in, her collar glowing as the commands were accepted by Eola. The woman’s one eye followed Elayne as she trotted out of Breezehome, heading first to the gates. They hadn’t seen Lydia. In fact, they had seen her enter the city four days past, but that was the last she had been seen. One of them mentioned her going to the Bannered Mare, but the tavern only said that Lydia had been seen leaving with a few visitors to the city. Two people, the guards confirmed when they had been described. A man who had come and gone over the years named Stalf. One unnamed female companion, but he claimed to be from Solstheim. This of course took hours. 

The merchants didn’t know him very well, except for Belethor. Sneaky Breton, that one. “Stalf? Solstheim Stalf?” He grinned, staring right at her masked eyes. “Liar, that one.”

“What’ve you got? My housecarl was last seen with them and my house was broken into.”

“Explains what he sells me. In the past, I’ve gotten some unusual things from him. Children’s clothes once. A couple silver buckles that belong to the Silver Hand. But you know what he’s sold that really takes the cake?” Belethor seemed to bring out a logbook. “On three separate occasions he sold me an amulet of Stendarr.”

“Those are expensive.” Elayne said pointedly. 

“Oh, I know. But they had blood on them. They were all taken from their owners, hard. I think the man you’re chasing is a killer, Elayne.”

“A killer who isn’t known to other holds?”

“I think you’re looking for someone who has killed children.” Belethor said, serious. “Not just people on the road or bandits. Along with people who wear amulets of Stendarr. He sold me one when he came in a couple days ago.” Belethor passed over a seemingly clean and crisp amulet. But upon close inspection there was blood in a couple of small spots. Whoever had it before Stalf had died recently. “I’ve also heard a rumor that some Vigilants of Stendarr were found dead near Rorikstead a few days past.” 

Elayne’s eyes widened. “You think..?”

“Nope.” Belethor barked. “I don’t get paid to think.” He laughed at his own joke. “But the clues add up to something really wrong with this Stalf fellow. Not that I have any Vigilants of Stendarr to ask questions of, mind you.”

“I think that something terrible has happened to Lydia.” 

“I think you have a problem.” Belethor added. “And I bet you know the solution, my fine-minded friend.”

“Yeah.” She grinned. “I think I do. Bye, Belethor. I’ll sell you some sleeping tree sap next time, if you are nicer.”

“You say that every time!” He bellowed, laughing. The smile on his face was a delighted one. “Oh yeah! Someone sold me some of those dragon bones that came from the one you killed outside of town. Want me to hold those for you?” The shrewd Breton dragged another fifteen minutes of bickering debate before Elayne convinced him to part with them. But her heels took her to the one place in town she knew she could get help in finding Lydia. 

Her heels echoed on the stones of Jorrvaskr, getting the attention of the Companions as she walked past them. Or it might have been the short elven armor she had. Either way, she had the attention of the hall when she came to sit near Kodlak Whitemane, the leader of the Companions. 

“Dragonborn and thane.” He greeted her. “What brings you to our humble hall?” There was nothing humble about it, but the old man seemed sincere. Grandfatherly. It always set her at ease around him. 

“I believe my Housecarl was kidnapped from my home. My place has been robbed, her things taken, and there are signs of blood in my front room.” Elayne faltered a bit. “And other things.”

“The Companions have never shied away from a rescue mission.” Kodlak had already given her his full attention, but the rest of the Companions gave up any kind of semblance of ignoring her. Vilkas and Farkas she had met before, and both of them towered over other Nords. “Do you know who took her?”

“A man named Stalf was in town days ago. But I’ve talked to the merchants. Based on the things he has sold, I believe him to be a serial killer. Children and adults. There are some dead vigilants of Stendarr in Rorikstead that he took from last.”

Kodlak frowned, but it was Farkas who gave away their bias. “Sweet Lydia’s gone?” He whispered. 

“Gods. Someone took Lydia.” Another member murmured, the whispers going around. 

Kodlak held up one hand, the entire hall coming to silence. “Your housecarl is a dear friend of many of us. She has trained with us, and we would have accepted her membership in the Companions. But she chose to become a housecarl in the Jarl’s household, in case he married Irileth. Which he has not, now that you’ve come along.” That thought filled Elayne with an entirely different kind of dread. “We shall go as Ysgramor had of old, when Gormlaith was taken by the Snow Elves. We shall, of course, expect payment when we bring Lydia back.” When. Not if. Elayne smiled, relieved. She was just one woman, and she was chasing shadows. 

“I trust the Companions to find my friend. Though there is one thing. Lydia was protecting something for me, and it wasn’t in my house. It is a golden scroll, five feet long. An Elder Scroll.” She pointed out. “I need it to defeat Alduin. I cannot save the world without it.”

“One dear friend and her own charge.”

“Lydia is more important to me. A scroll I can track down again. But I don’t want Lydia to die.” The Elder Scroll had survived this long. But she only remembered the plaque in the other Breezehome, commemorating her death. “Thank you for accepting, Kodlak.”

“The Companions shall set out immediately.” Kodlak stood up to his full height. “Vilkas. Farkas. You have the lead on this. Athis, Ria?” Two younger members of the Companions stepped forward. “To Rorikstead. Take horses. Investigate the death of these Vigilants. We will find Lydia and bring her home.” The old man offered his hand to shake. Elayne’s small hand was swallowed up by the heavy callused arm, and they shook on it. The deal was struck, and Jorrvaskr came alive. Weapons were sharpened, orders were barked, and armor was pulled on with great speed. Ria and Athis bolted, pre-prepared bags of supplies on their backs as they ran for the gates and the stables. Vilkas and Farkas took slightly more time, wanting to go and investigate what Belethor had bought from Stalf. But it filled Elayne with a lot of hope. She was not the best at finding her friend. But damned if she would just let Lydia be taken. Seven hundred gold was a small price to pay for bringing her friend home. 

“Thank you, Kodlak.” She offered, standing.

“Don’t thank me yet. We are but mortals. I will only accept your thanks for a job well done.” The old man said, looking confident. “Only two days lead? There will still be tracks. Even with the rain, you’ve given us plenty to work with. Most of the time we investigate people gone for more than a fortnight. Much more difficult to track down.”

“Still.” Elayne just felt like thanking him. She held her tongue, choosing to not push him. “I appreciate it. I will be at Breezehome if you find anything.”

“You will hear from us, Lady Dragonborn.” Kodlak said, as she left the building. Elayne felt better, but still fragile. Lydia was gone, that much was certain. She just hoped she was still alive. And that she would still be alive and unmolested after what she was about to do. Her feet then carried her towards Dragonsreach. The large palace had a stone foundation, Elayne’s shoes echoing loudly against the stone. She was timing her visit very carefully. It was the early hours of the afternoon, when the line of people going to Dragonsreach was at its height. The guards recognized her, letting her pass the group of merchants pressing at the doors. As well as Nazim, who seemed to just be enjoying watching other people suffer. 

She wasn’t the only one wearing high heels in here. The familiar sound carried through the hall, and she saw Irileth with a pair of black heeled boots, walking near the throne. The Dunmer gave her a nod, before turning her eyes upon Amren and the other visitors. Elayne walked past all of them, into the back stairs. It was just as Molag Bal said, the worlds were blending together. Things from the other world were starting to appear in this one. First Astrid, and now Irileth. If she was seeing it right, it looked almost as if Irileth’s leather armor was shorter on her thighs. 

Then again, she had gotten used to her legs being displayed. No one seemed to complain about it, so far. She acted like she was visiting Farengar, a common occurrence. But past his door was a stairwell leading to the great porch. One solitary guard was on duty out here, the large dinner table and windy entranceway hardly worth guarding. A muffle spell muted her shoes, and Elayne was within range of him in just a few steps. The sleep spell hit the nord, who slumped onto the walls of the porch. 

“Alright Elayne, you can do this.” She whispered to herself. From her bag, she grabbed the rope that Astrid had given her. Lashing it to a chair, she threw the coiled mass over the edge, and felt it hit the bottom. Just as well, the person on the other end did not wait to climb up. Gabriella came over the edge, breathing hard. She did just climb almost a hundred feet of rope. 

“Nice work, initiate.” Gabriella told her. She was covered head to toe in brotherhood shrouded armor. “How is it looking?”

“He’s on his throne. There are people all over the room, with guards in the front and back. This is the only one here.” She motioned to the sleeping one. “But I have some spells to help you.” She motioned to some of the bales of hay that provided cover up here. 

“How many guards will be looking at the upper gallery?” Gabriella asked, serious. “What kind of spell?”

“I have a special book. It makes any actions you do be forgotten by the guards just in case you get caught.” She lied smoothly. 

Gabriella and Elayne crouched in cover, as Elayne brought out  _ Captured Dreams _ . “That looks Daedric.”

“You don’t want my help?” Elayne challenged.

“You’ve been true to your family. Of course I’ll accept the help. Just so long as we keep this book between us, you see. Astrid would kill you for this if she knew you had it. She likes to collect things like that.”

“She’s got more daedric artifacts?”

“That dagger of hers. Probably more in her office somewhere.” Gabriella confirmed. “Let’s do this, sister.”

Elayne went along with Astrid’s plan. They would be killing Balgruuf. Just not her Balgruuf that she swore oaths to. Gabrielle would remember killing the Jarl. She would confirm that he was killed. And Elayne would return them back to their world, where the damage would be undone but the job complete. Or that was her plan. “Betrayed by servants, your return must be servile in turn.” She read, as the world around them darkened. The darkness receded, leaving her in the other world. A single guard was on duty in the same location, and another sleep spell took them out of the action. 

Gabriella stumbled, shaking her head. “What kind of spell was that!” She hissed.

“Go, take your shot. Get back here as soon as you can. It doesn’t last forever.” Gabriella nodded. The assassin was off, and Elayne chewed her lip waiting for her to return. She did not have to wait long. Screams echoed through the palace, and shouting rose.  _ Captured Dreams _ lay open on her lap, but she saw one serious issue. There was no glowing rune. Nothing to press to return to her world. Had she used it too much? What was wrong? Closing and opening it again did nothing, nor did flipping through the pages help. As it currently stood, there was no way back. Time was up, though. Gabriella came around the corner, running. But that was the furthest her sister assassin got. A blade, thrown by someone, impacted her through the body. Blood sprayed and the enchanted weapon seemed to punch through her lungs. 

“I was raised by the Morag Tong! You think I would let you get away?!” Irileth roared from around the corner. Elayne gulped. She needed to be gone. Gabriella was dead. No one would come back from that. But the rope was in the other world! Shaking, she started climbing the wall down, no ropes. No safety at all. Her hands burned, as she made her way down the side of the palace. Up above her, she could hear the heels of Irileth moving along the edges, and she cast an invisibility spell before the woman could look over the edge and see her. The red eyes slid into view over the parapet, promising death to anything they saw. She searched methodically, angry. “Seal the gates. Signal the north tower and get the horses patrolling. Alert the legion.” Irileth pulled back, heels clicking as she began moving. “The Dark Brotherhood tried to kill the Jarl! Lock down the city! I want any conspirators found!” 

“The Dragonborn killed the Dark Brotherhood, I thought.” One of the guards spoke up.

“This evidence speaks for itself.” Irileth pointed out. “She’s still bleeding out. Take her down to the dungeon. I want her hung on chains and prepared for me. I’m going to find out what I want to know.”

Elayne shuddered. Gabriella was going to die in this world, for the second time. She was still alive. But if she had tried to fight, she would have been cut down right alongside her. Shaking, she waited for the guards to be gone before climbing down towards the roof of the dungeons. With her heels, that was a lot harder to do than if she was wearing regular shoes. But with a lot of effort, she was sitting on the outside wall of whiterun, just around the corner from where the guards would go to carry Gabriella to the dungeons. She saw them carrying her in, five guards carrying her on a stretcher. Elayne could see her unconscious on the stretcher, but still breathing. 

“I need to think. I need something.” The dungeon of Dragonsreach had a secret exit. Lydia had told her once, of a tunnel that went from the guard’s barracks to the dungeon. It was there from the time of King Olaf one-eye, or so she claimed. The barracks would be empty right now with all of the guards out hunting. “I’ll need a weapon.”

With invisibility and muffle she was using a lot of her magicka. No one would forget a woman with blue hair showing up on the day the jarl got hurt or killed. She couldn’t get caught. Or seen. Ducking between buildings and past guard patrols, she managed to get from the cloud district to the back of the marketplace without trouble. Belethor’s shop looked to be full of people. Warmaiden’s was surrounded by soldiers who were setting out on patrols. Grimacing, she reached up and pulled her dragon priest mask from her face. Those would be risky to wear here. Back against a building, she drew all of her long hair behind her, clasping it tight. The blue wave of hair was now pulled all along her back. 

Heels clicking, she entered the Drunken Huntsman with her face visible for the first time in days. As the Dragonborn, she liked the notoriety she caused. People knew her by her dragon priest mask, and she knew there were rumors about it. Her actual face was rather plain, besides whatever the headband was doing to her. She knew she looked like a whore. Kohl around her eyes, and the headband going from her brow to wrap around both ears. At least her elven armor made her appear professional. The moonstone bands on her thighs touched once as she opened the door, and she saw the interior for the first time in this world. It was far more decorative, with antlers and trophies all across the walls. This included the skull of a giant, and a mammoth’s skull that hung over the main tavern area, candles lit in its horns. 

Only one person was in here, cleaning up what had to be at least thirty tankards of mead and ale from every surface of the room. Elrindr, the owner was just stepping around the area with two buckets. It seemed that they were overflowing with even more tankards. At the sound of her heels, he looked up to her. “Well miss, if you were looking for your clients they just left.”

“Excuse me?”

“The legion just got called up. My taproom went from standing room only to empty. Sorry, but the men that are willing to pay for you are no longer here.” He seemed mad about that. As he should be, her merchant mind decided. Losing that many paying customers all at once meant what could have been an amazing day of revenue just turned into much less exciting of a day. 

“I’m not here about the legion.” She said, looking around. “I was here to buy a bow.”

He nodded. “Well, a paying customer that wants more than drink! I unfortunately have very low stock at the moment.” he was grinning. Behind him, the wall was full of bows on display. Arrows were in different slots along the wall, and it looked like business was booming. 

Elayne gave him a glare, which did nothing. The damn kohl around her eyes probably made her look harmless. She had a weapon at her belt, but the simple steel dagger was just the best way to keep her elven armor from riding up or flashing anyone. Her heavier weapons were in her pack, and she always had her spells. “You’ve got an elven bow on the wall there.” 

“Ah, that one? You don’t look like quite the one to afford it. Just as well, I’m not supposed to sell my weapons to anyone when the city is locked down. During attacks, the shopkeepers are not to distribute weapons to anyone.” He folded his arms. “Sorry, pretty thing.”

No lie Elayne could come up with would be easily proven in this world. But he did call her pretty. She needed a bow, and to her merit she did think about just stealing it from him. She didn’t like stealing from anyone. Or killing people that didn’t deserve it. “I have enough gold to pay for it!” She said, bringing out her sack of coins. 

“The Imperial legion is drinking me out of booze for the season with each passing day. Any one of them could report me for selling during a siege or risky situation.” Elrindr seemed to have a perpetual smirk across his face. He could be lying, but it wasn’t implausible. 

“What did you do during the siege?” She dared to ask.

“When the Stormcloaks set up camp, concerned citizens bought out of all my stock. Afterwards I was able to afford plenty of stock from the fallen. But that doesn’t change the law.” Again, that smirk stayed on his face. Like he knew something she did not. “Couldn’t break the law that time. This time, I have been warned.”

“What do you actually want?” She demanded, annoyed. 

“Is there something you have that I want?” He challenged, the Bosmer grinning wider.

Elayne realized that she very much looked like one of the painted whores of Wayrest. He might not be after money in this. She let one of her hands run down her body, to rest at her hip. Elrindr’s eyes followed the motion, the grin still on his face. She wanted to call him a pig, but then again this was the other world. They were much more fast and loose about this kind of thing. It was probably good that she wasn’t wearing a collar like the last time she was in Whiterun. Her grandmother had broken the power of it. 

He could at least see the moonstone bands around her thighs. The only thing she had from  _ Captured Dreams _ that was visible. Anything she could say about how she planned on using a bow would be incriminating. “Perhaps we can come to an arrangement.” Elayne said, heated. Already she could feel her nipples perking up. Just the thought alone of being called pretty had awoken them, but Elrindr seemed to conjure other ideas. 

“The only arrangement I might work out is with a whore.” Elrindr said, carrying his buckets of tankards to the back room, smirking. 

“Well..” Elayne wasn’t sure where to go from here. “I have no guarantee that you would actually sell me anything even if I was a whore.” Elayne swallowed nervously. “For you.”

Elrinder returned, with two new buckets and a bundle of leather straps. “No whore I have ever met would wear smallclothes.” He winked. Then he just continued to clean up the room, as if she had already written off the deal. Perhaps both of them were surprised by her own eagerness, her hands flipping up the back of her elven armor and her smallclothes hitting the floor. First her left foot shakily raised, the heel sliding out of the material. With a significant click that shoe came down, and her right foot raised itself, leaving her smalls on the floor of the Huntsman. Elrindr watched with rapt attention, the moment of silence only broken by their breathing. “Or a breastband.” Elrindr said quietly, not even paying attention to his task anymore. 

Elayne folded her arms. “I barely have any breasts to begin with.” It was true, she hadn’t worn a breastband today. They didn’t seem to do much for her anymore. Or maybe she just preferred her skin being in contact with more than just the thin bands of fabric. “Your turn to prove your intentions.”

“If I sell you this bow,” Elrinder licked his lips. “You’ll not mention it to anyone, alright?” He threw the leather straps over one of the wooden frames holding up his ceiling. “And I get to fuck you in that.” It looked like five sections of leather hung down to around waist height. 

“Agreed.” Elayne said, not knowing what it was. But she somehow wanted this. Losing her virginity to save Gabriella was worth it. Or at least that is what her brain was telling her. A deep heat had been building inside of her, and she shook his hand. Elrindr just pointed at the leather objects. 

“The ones closest to the floor are for your feet. Hands are here.” He pointed to the seat at the center of the contraption. “Lift up your skirts and sit there.” She put her hands in the grips first, testing the contraption. It would keep her from touching the floor, suspending her at a matching height to Elrindr’s waist. He had done this before. Perhaps not often, judging by his eagerness. 

Elayne kept one hand on the contraption, and brought the other low. Pulling her armor over her ass, it jiggled pleasantly as it was freed from the dual layers of armored skirts. The leather felt warm on her skin, as she settled her ass onto the seat. First one shaking foot was brought off the floor, the spiked heel naturally holding the strap tight. Both hands were now holding onto the grips above her head, as she brought her other foot off of the floor. The entire contraption started swinging back and forth as she lost her connection to the floor, and luck alone slammed her heeled foot into the remaining strap.

“Just get used to it for a moment.” Elrindr murmured. “Let me check on your feet.” Elayne swung back and forth carefully. This was like a gigantic child’s swing, but with more controls to guide it with. By pushing or pulling with her hands she could control the angle of her body. Her feet were naturally spreading wide apart, more to keep herself from flailing than to control her swing. Soon enough she felt Elrindr playing with her wrists, letting her test more movements with her feet. Bringing them closer together risked coming out of her seat. So they had to remain apart if she didn’t want to slide out. 

Glancing up, she noticed that new straps of leather were now wrapped around her wrists. Only secured by a leather tie, but it seemed to hold her in the contraption. Lifting up one foot, she saw another leather tie over her ankle. “Keeping me from leaving?”

“You could undo those by hand. Not like those thalmor slave bands on your thighs. That’s to help you from falling off if you lose focus.”

How thoughtful. A final addition was a leather wrap around her rolled up armor, to keep it from sliding back down as well as from falling out of the seat. Now she was completely suspended over the floor, at least six inches from that surface for her feet. Bringing her feet further apart stabilized her, keeping her from swinging too far back and forth. Elayne bit her lip, looking around at the empty tavern. Here she was, with her legs in the air and skirt hiked up in public. Meanwhile Elrindr was wasting no time. His pants were undone, the elf not having dropped them yet. He reached out, pushing her hips.

The motion sent her backwards, forcing her legs out wider to try to stop her body from tumbling. Her backwards motion stopped, and she swung back towards Elrindr. Her hips met his, a gentle mashing of her flesh and his fabrics that felt like electricity were running through every part of her. “Oh!” She murmured, the jolt pressing her even more fully against him. There was a thrum as he cleared his throat, one she could feel at the juncture of her thighs. 

“Perfect.” Elrindr enunciated. “Perfect.” He said it again, his hands were running all over her backside, measuring it in his smaller hands. Bosmer were short people, and she was convinced that he was just marvelling at it. Her one good feature, as her breasts were small and her face rather plain. His fingers pressed, the flesh giving way to his callused hands. She was pushed away for a moment, her hips losing contact. When she came back, all that she felt was skin. His pants had hit the ground in the time she had been separated. “You’re ready.” He whispered.

She was? Elayne wasn’t so sure. She hadn’t been with a man before! The Stick didn’t count. It shouldn’t at least! But with her hands and feet tied to this swing, she couldn’t back out of this so easily. With him between her legs, if she tried to bring them together or get out of the swing it would just look like she was trying to get on top of him already. She couldn’t see a way out of this if she tried, short of Charming him Elayne wanted to slap her own cheek. Why hadn’t she thought of that first when he didn’t want to sell to her! Blinking, she focused back on the now. There was something touching her most intimate of places.

Looking down, she could see that the apex of her thighs was lined up with his own. There was a penis there, large and full. Her entire body locked onto that fact, the bosmer’s skin looking tight and hot. Her entire body felt flush, like all of the water in it was flooding down to meet it. “Oh yes.” It wasn’t the Stick. It felt hot against her skin, and the way that Elrindr carried himself after she said that seemed to be eager. Perhaps, Elayne mused, she could be a whore in this moment. With a gentle push of her legs, she swung forwards. 

Elrindr could see her coming, and lined himself up. She felt more than saw when he made contact. Like her body was designed to do this, the flesh parted. It felt like a hot object was pushing deeply inside of her, touching places that she had never touched on herself. Elayne started gasping, biting her lip as she let out squeals as Elrindr worked his way inside of her. She thought this was the height of feeling, her legs and arms unable to stop him from taking his pleasure from her. Every time he pulled back, it drew her breath and the entire focus of her being before it came back, slamming deeply into her psyche. 

Elrindr was holding the swing by the straps, controlling her movement back and forth. The cock between her legs was getting warmer, or perhaps she was the one heating up. He was moving faster and faster, and Elayne pulled at the slots on her wrists. She was letting the restraints hold her more than hold herself up, and threw her head back. The motion angled her body differently, letting Elrindr hit even deeper! It wasn’t as deep as she had been pushed with the Stick, but it was deep enough. 

Underneath her, Elrindr started gasping. The glorious feeling was coming to an end, as she saw him pull out. She ached for him to go back inside of her, but instead he grabbed a loose tankard and sighed, releasing into it. But not her! Inwardly fuming, Elayne wondered why in Oblivion she wanted that. Why would she want him to release inside of her? Shaking her head, she felt the high she was in receding. Elrindr leaned against his counter and looked relieved. Meanwhile she felt like she was going to leave a trail on the floor like a damned snail, she was so ready. “Hang on, miss.” He rasped. “I’ll have you down in a moment.” 

Elayne was ready to contest that point, but he pulled his pants back up. The tankard he used he carried past her, and against her will her tongue darted out to lick her lips. Her mind felt disgusted, but another part of her squirmed. Almost as though she wanted it. Shuddering, she tried to keep her mind off of it as the Bosmer came back, bending over to grab her smallclothes. Those he shoved into his pocket, smirking. “Hey!” She complained, finally finding her voice.

“I already released your arms and legs.” He murmured, ignoring the real reason for the complaint. “You can get down at any time.” Glancing at her free hands and feet, she noticed the difference. She must have been mentally debating with herself and not noticed. Shakily, she set both heels on the floor. It helped contain the heat she must be giving off between her legs, and the armored skirts fell back over her ass. 

“You..” She started to say, and then faltered. What did she even want at this point? For him to actually finish screwing her? Bring back that dirty tankard? Gods, what was she even thinking! Shaking her head, she felt the blue hair ripple. “I need that bow.” She was here for a bow. So she could rescue Gabriella. Not lose her virginity and get lost in this world. 

He gave her a damn good price for it. So low, she didn’t even bother haggling. But instead of the haughty smirk she saw when she first came in, Elrindr seemed more open and comfortable with her. “Here you are. Some elven arrows, too. Match that nice armor you have.”

“What about my smalls?” She asked.

“Whores don’t need those.” He joked. “Plus, those slave bands on your thighs probably would make wearing them near impossible.”

Taking the moonstone and quicksilver weapon, she realized she should really be running to go help Gabriella. But she couldn’t help asking him. “Can you explain them to me? Someone locked them on me as a mean prank.”

“You can’t get them off unless you are wearing a collar made of the same material.” He said, apologetically. “Which are notoriously difficult to remove. The college of Winterhold know how to get around it, but it’s thousands of gold to hire them to do it.” He admits. “Might be better to be known as a whore.”

Elayne rolled her eyes. “Thanks.” She said, deadpan. “I haven’t seen it do anything magical yet.”

“Consider yourself lucky.” Elrindr murmured. “Now, why don’t you pull your skirt all the way down and go out the back door? My brother is coming and I don’t want to explain this to him.” It was clear that he planned on keeping her smallclothes. Like a trophy on the wall. Glancing at all the other things in this room, she considered it probably apt. Groaning, she shoved her skirt as far down as it would go, and slipped the arrows into her bag. As well as the bow, for that matter. Heels clicking, she got to the back door and whined imperceptible to all but herself. She was angry that she was walking out of here. Shaking her head once more, she tried to move on. She got what she needed, and now she could leave. 

So why in Oblivion did she want to go back into his kitchen after that tankard? Gods, she was a mess. Stewing, she threw open the back door and slipped out. She had her bow, now she could go rescue her friend. The guard barracks she was going to was right next to Jorrvaskr. It didn’t look like much, just a door buried into a hill. Lydia said that it was its own building at one point, but someone wanted to build on top of it and dirt covered it. The door was slightly ajar, and she bit her lip as she approached. A quick muffle and she was in, heels silenced. The barracks was almost empty. She said almost because she could see two of the beds full, their occupants snoring loudly. 

Without windows this place was easy to sleep in. Elayne moved into one of the side rooms, exactly where Lydia told her about. There was a tunnel set into the stone, only revealed by a candlelight spell. She would have to crawl through it. Her knees were scuffed after perhaps the first fifty feet. The second fifty felt like she was going to bleed, but finally she saw light ahead. At least her arms and torso were covered. The dirt scraped at them, but Elayne came out the other side to see the inside of the Dragonsreach dungeon. 

Six large cells filled it. The one she emerged from had a skeleton in it. She felt disgusted at that. The cell must not have been used in a very long time. The lock looked rusty. The one across the way was filled with some kind of giant wooden rack, and upon it hung Gabriella. Her clothes were taken from her, and she hung there in the nude. She had been questioned, and looked injured. Looking around, Elayne could see only one guard in this section of the dungeon. There was a desk up front, she knew. This wasn’t her world, she reminded herself. These men weren’t here to help her. 

She took out her bow first. The elven weapon wasn’t what she was used to. If she missed, it would be horrid. The metal was powerful, and she might only get one shot. Looking up, she contemplated if she would actually be able to save Gabriella. Of course, that thought had her immediately angry. Of course she could rescue her! She was the Dragonborn! Nodding to herself, she resolved that no one had to die here today. The bow was put away, and she drew her steel dagger of paralysis. The other hand was free, and it was what she focused on. 

Concentrating, she drew out her hand and threw a Sleep spell. The guard on patrol fell over, loudly crumpling to the floor. “Lod! Lod! You oaf, get up!” A voice thundered. Boots thundered, and a second guard came stomping over. “I know ye ain’t feeling good, but that-” A second sleep spell took him down, Elayne breathing a sigh of relief. Rushing forwards, she picked the rusty lock and kicked the door open when it didn’t want to budge. The guard had the key to Gabriella’s cell, and her restraints. She wasted no time in getting in there.

The Dunmer had bigger breasts! The utter bitch. Elayne shook her head, instead pulling her from the rack and setting her on a pile of straw. She was not responding, but still breathing. Running over to the chest near the doors, she opened it. Gabriella’s things weren’t even there. The chest was empty. “Oh dear.”

Her magicka was already low, but she used what little she had to heal Gabriella. Still, the Dunmer didn’t awaken. One of the guards groaned at the sound of the spellwork, and Elayne bit her lip. She wasn’t strong, but without any gear the Dunmer could be dragged. Across the floor and through the rusty gate, she got Gabriella into the cell. Then she went and relocked all of the doors before throwing the keys onto the sleeping guard. Elayne squeezed both of them through the tunnel. She would press her heels against the walls, and use her thighs to pull Gabriella’s body forward. It was more than a hundred feet back to the Guard barracks. 

“Ngg.” Gabriella thankfully stirred. “No more.”

“Shh.” Elayne whispered. “I came to rescue you!”

“Elayne?” Gabriella whispered, only one eye opening. “You should leave me.” She coughed, a wet sound. “Kill me.”

“No, no no.” Elayne whispered. “I’m going to get you out of here. Just down this tunnel? There is an empty barracks. We will get you a cloak, and then we are getting out of here.”

“The others..” She coughed. “Dead?”

“What others?” Elayne asked. 

“You only knew about one of the contracts.” Gabriella explained, her voice growing stronger. “There were two others in this city.”

“Two more?” Her heart skipped a beat. “Who?”

“I wasn’t told who. Only that there were two others. Nazir and Babbette went after one, while the last one was being handled by Astrid herself.” Gabriella’s hands glowed, as she tried to heal herself. But the giant wound in her stomach would take more than restoration magic to heal. “That housecarl. Morag Tong.” She coughed.

“Her name is Irileth.” Elayne supplied. “Did she hurt you?”

“She’s good.” Gabriella said, groaning. “We need to move. Before they find us.”

“We just need clothes for you first.” Elayne said. “Can you crawl?”

Even injured, Gabriella was a tough woman. She dragged herself quietly into the storage room of the barracks, leaning Gabriella against a barrel. “I have a home in this city. We can hide you there and let you heal up.” Elayne slipped out, going into the barracks. A set of moth-eaten robes and an old dress were in the wardrobes, which she offered to Gabriella. 

The woman was barely responsive when she returned. Elayne forced the robes over her head, drawing them over her ruined body. The Dunmer barely responded. She needed to be brought to Breezehome. Reaching into her bag, she pulled out  _ Captured Dreams _ . The rune had returned! The glowing rune was back!

She could send them back inside the guard barracks. That would be disastrous if what she said was true, and there had been two other contracts. Elayne resolved to use it somewhere else. The guard barracks may have already been emptied, but leading a heavily injured Dunmer around would spark questions in both worlds. It couldn’t be helped. Carefully, she led Gabriella towards the door, the Dunmer leaning over her and only running on adrenaline. A stamina potion and a healing potion did little, just keeping her conscious. 

They got outside the door, and the city looked to have a hundred torches burning along the walls, people running along their length. “Hang on Gabriella.” She whispered, pressing the glowing symbol. “I’ve got you.”

The world transitioned back to light, the sun higher in the sky. Time flowed differently between the worlds. The light seemed to surround them, and the Dunmer sighed in some relief. The walls were not manned, and there were very few guards running around. No legion, no damaged Whiterun, and no pursuers. Just walking along the walls brought them past Olava the Feeble, who gave them a gentle wave. She didn’t seem to react to Gabriella’s state, as she came up behind Breezehome. Slipping around the building, Elayne took a moment to equip her dragon priest mask, Hevnoraak. 

No one challenged her on her way back to her home. As soon as her door shut, she slammed the lock home and sighed in relief. “Eola!” She barked. 

There was a frantic movement upstairs, as Eola came down with two swords drawn. “What?” She seemed to have been resting, as her shoes were off. 

“Help me get her to my bed!” Eola didn’t question the presence of the Dunmer. She helped get Gabriella to the bed, where Elayne pulled off her moth-eaten robes. “Hot water.”

“She doesn’t look like she is going to make it.” Eola murmured. “She’s been poisoned.”

Gabriella groaned, the wound on her chest looking gruesome. Elayne and Eola brought out every ounce of Restoration magic they knew, and for at least a day that was all they did. Finally, with every potion she had they got the wound to close. Eola slumped onto Lydia’s bed, passing out as soon as the scab held together. Elayne went downstairs, hungry beyond hungry. She was eating what might have been leeks in between bread, when there was a knock at the door.

Groaning, she came to the door. Kodlak was there, his white beard shining in the afternoon sun. “I have news.” He said cryptically. “May I come in?”

Elayne let in the old man, who just stood in the main foyer. “Ria and Athis brought back Farkas and Vilkas today. They were heavily injured, and delirious. Diseases aplenty. But they had one disease in particular that stood out. Vampirism.” He brought out a yellowing page from an old book. It had to be more than a century old. “This is the last time the Companions attempted to hunt this creature. Her name is Fura Bloodmouth. A vampire of the Volkihar clan. We lost many of our number to hunting her down. She likes to collect proud warriors and take them away somewhere. She is a mighty warrior, someone that we have lost people to. Skjor and Aela are hunting them now, but they were last seen heading north. Lydia is most certainly in her possession.” 

Elayne looked horrified. Her housecarl had been taken by vampires. “Who are these Volkihar?”

“Powerful. Never fight them near ice or water. The cold favors their powers. Farkas and Vilkas caught up to them somewhere near Swindler’s Den, in the hills northwest of here. Those taken by them are lucky to die a quick death. Fura Bloodmouth is fond of making powerful warriors into more vampires like her.” The old man looked disturbed, handing over the yellowed paper for her to read. “The last time we fought a Nightlord, as they call their leaders we only sent the most senior members of the Companions. Old friends are still amongst them. There is a woman that I was sweet on, once.” He didn’t laugh at the joke. “Her face is permanently frozen in perpetual youth now. Turned by Fura Bloodmouth.”

“Are you saying that you are giving up?”

“I am informing you of the fate of your Housecarl. You paid for a task for the Companions. I am honor bound to inform you of this.” He said, at first serious and his voice loud. Then he softened his tongue. “I don’t want you to run off alone to an ignoble death.”

“But they have what I need to save the world.”

“According to whom?” He challenged.

“The founder of the Way of the Voice. They spoke to me, and told me that the elder scroll I needed was the same one used in ancient times to seal away Alduin.”

Kodlak seemed to value that carefully. “Then you will be going after her. Nothing I say will stop you.” 

“No.” She admitted firmly.

The old man grinned. “Then I shall be in no hurry to fill the Halls of the Dead further. I know where the Volkihar live. The Companions will not share this information with you, in the interests of preventing your wrongful death!” His smirk changed once again, as he put his hand on her door handle. “The Companions were hired. This is our task, and we shall go out again and better prepared. Your housecarl is far beyond your reach.”

Elayne slammed her own hand to keep the door shut. “You will tell me! I could still catch her!”

“Don’t push an old warrior.” He cautioned. “It may end poorly for you.”

“You aren’t leaving unti-” It happened in an instant. He swept her leg, the high heel scraping. With his elbow he brought it down into her stomach, all of her breath leaving her in an instant. It was the kind of takedown you dreamt of seeing. Of course, she appreciated it far less from her own floor. Her skirt had ridden up, and her heels scraped against the stone as she failed to muster the strength to get up. 

Kodlak opened the door, chuckling. “You and Aela are much the same. If you are going to wear a skirt, Thane of Whiterun, please wear smallclothes. It gives people the wrong idea about you. The Companions will do as you bid us. If we feel we need your help, we shall call. Until then,” He waved, shutting the door slowly. “Don’t be foolish.”

Groaning, Elayne let her head slide to the floor. She had to admit, that was some move. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elayne:  
> Moonstone Anklets  
> Moonstone Thigh Bands  
> Navel Piercing  
> Nipple Piercings  
> Moonstone Headband
> 
> Eola:  
> Ebonite Collar  
> Ebonite Bracelets
> 
> Lydia:  
> Moonstone Collar  
> Nipple Rings  
> Navel Ring
> 
> Gabriella:  
> ??


	18. Chapter 18: Dagon Snare

Gabriella took two weeks to have her fevers break and subside. The gaping wound in her body had accumulated dirt and dust while she was in the dungeon and while they crawled out of it, and got infected. Elayne poured cure disease potions down her ungrateful throat until the fevers died down and the woman started really recovering. The Dunmer’s skin was almost Altmer in color at one point, but as soon as that happened they panicked and made her more food. Hour after hour Elayne and Eola took care of her. Eola was a surprisingly capable bedside caretaker, especially good at noticing infection or poor health. Probably because she didn’t want to eat people that died of horrific sickness.

As a cook, Eola had little skill. She had survived on raw meat and dead flesh for years, and the words of the other world’s Eola came back to remind her that the other Dragonborn controlled her diet. So, Elayne spent most of her time cooking for all three of them, taking care of Gabriella, and forcing Eola to eat. The Breton was not appreciative of the hearty potato stews that Elayne commanded her to eat. She had to command her to! As if cannibalism would solve all of her issues. 

But after weeks of sitting on their figurative asses and eating well, all three women were filling out. Gabriella no longer looked like a corpse. Elayne’s ass was definitely getting more jiggle and wiggle as she walked around, and Eola filled in everywhere. No wonder the other Dragonborn wanted her as his lover. 

Gabriella paid a price for entering the other world. A ring adorned her middle finger, and it couldn't be removed. The symbol for Oblivion rested upon it, just like the price Elayne paid. Her headdress was getting larger again. It was no longer just a headband. The fake elven ears made of moonstone now had heavy earrings that punched through her real ears also. Large symbols of Oblivion hung down, impossible to hide. Quicksilver and Moonstone, they appeared to be made out of. Sometimes it almost felt like she was hearing things from them, an almost musical chime. It didn’t ring when they moved or touched anything. 

The Companions had left in force during the first week, and hadn't returned. They only received two visitors during that time. A courier delivered a letter from Jarl Sidgier wanting Elayne to take care of some menial task. She could care less. The second visitor was Olava the Feeble. The old woman was at her door long past the time that anyone would be out. Late into the night and almost into the morning she knocked insistently. When Elayne answered the door it was completely dark except for her candlelight spell.

“Olava?” Elayne was shocked. “Do you know what turn of the night it is?” She hissed. 

The old woman pushed past her, into Breezehome. “Let me see my childhood friend.” She whispered. “I saw a vision and it concerns her.”

She hadn't said anything to the guards all these weeks after seeing them, so Elayne let her come upstairs. Gabriella was wrapped in blankets, still seemingly unconscious. She had said nothing but mumbled words so far. Olava pulled one foot from the covers, the darker skin looking healthy. Then she whispered a word of magic and conjured a layer of frost over the underside of her foot. 

Gabriella shrieked, the foot being drawn back under the covers at lightning speed. “She's been awake for three days, enjoying your ministrations. But the words I have are for both of you.” Elayne blinked. She still thought the woman was not well enough to rise.

Gabriella glared, her red eyes promising vengeance. “Crazy old bat.”

“You got cocky and stabbed.” Olava mocked. “Now shut your yap and listen. Both of you must take action today. You.” She pointed at Gabriella. “You must get home before the jester does. Take the carriage. You'll survive if you do. You must warn your family about the Jester. He brings a final judgement to you. You, Gabriella, must listen to the words spoken and change your fates.” Olava said, voice strong and carrying through the entire home. It was unlike the feeble tone she normally spoke in. 

Elayne had taken a step back, concerned. “I'm, uh, the Dragonborn.”

“Doesn't matter, Walker of Oblivion. Hero. Slave. Cocksleeve. Dragon slayer.” Each word stung. She had sex in the other world. She had walked by Elrindr here, and didn't feel the same excitement she did back when Gabriella was in the dungeon. Gods, she never even used that bow to save her. She gave away her virginity for nothing, and it ate at her. “You must leave. Today. Go to Dawnstar and assemble your weapon. There are hunters that you must avoid. Ones who know your quest. You have been betrayed by your housecarl.”

Lydia had betrayed her? How? Why? “Why would she break her oaths?”

“You understand the nature of the Daedra and how they use their powers. She had no such preparation. She was manipulated by Molag Bal, and is no longer your friend. She is now your enemy, and is going to Dawnstar to stop you. You must beat her there, and prepare for those coming to kill you.”

Olava seemed to falter, sighing as she sank into one of the chairs. “Also, spend your money. You have much, and can afford to change the fate of many.” She seemed to be done speaking, and looked up at all of them. “Now! Get your things! All of you have far to go and I have firewood to chop! Go, get your pale asses out of here!”

In the panic that followed, Elayne barely got to talk to Gabriella. “Are you going to be okay?”

“Not for a while.” The Dunmer admitted. “But I wouldn't have made it without you. Babette could learn some bedside manners from you.” Her laugh was not a healthy one. “But I know Olava. I knew her when she was young. She's a Seer. She can see the future. So you're in luck. She can see the future, but it isn't set in stone. But I would listen to her. You've taken good care of me, and I'll pay it back to you.” Gabriella held her arm, to keep eye contact. “I promise. I know that the Jarl survived. I won't try to kill him again. Not when he is guarded by a Morag Tong Bitch.”

“You don't want to get impaled again.”

“No!” Gabriella mock-screamed. “Plus, I don't think the client actually performed the Black Sacrament. All of this doesn't feel very much like the old days.”

“The other two people died. So you can at least have that to bring home.”

“I'll be okay. Come back to the Sanctuary soon. I know you're a big shot hero, but you should come and enjoy your family.”

“I will.” She embraced the Dunmer carefully. “I just need to find out who I am fighting next.”

They had to help Gabriella to the carriage. She was set into the back seat, while Elayne and Eola hired their own carriage towards Dawnstar. The horses looked half starved, but the gold helped fill their bags with feed. She and Eola rode through the mountains, coming into Dawnstar after two harrowing cold days of rain and snow. Elayne had to be kept awake, or else she would just strip out of all of her clothes in front of everyone. She had no idea how to break that curse yet. Eola found it entertaining at Breezehome, but they were in public now. 

The bay had a large piece of ice blocking it, keeping three ships from leaving. Two looked like normal freighters, but the third was a larger ship. It had a tower in front and in back, in the Hammerfell style. It looked out of place with its colorful banners and bright style. “Think we should stop there first? Before we see Silus?”

Eola was wearing a dress with enough coverage that she could hide her collar. And decent boots she paid for. “Worth a shot. Maybe he has some books or scrolls we can get. Something to help against whatever we have to deal with.”

The ship seemed to have bored sailors going back and forth to the tavern, with a couple of people sitting on the main deck rolling dice. One of them was wearing a flamboyant ruffled shirt, as well as a mage’s hood. Nords didn’t trust mages most of the time, so he must have been wearing it knowingly. “Hello!” Elayne called, heels clicking on the wood of the quays. 

“Hello!” The man in the ruffled shirt stepped forward. “What can Captain Aiden of the Winnowill do for you today?” 

“My name is Elayne.” She offered, cloak around her body. It kept her warm in this frigid wind. “I was wondering if you had anything for sale.”

“That I do.” He grinned. “Rare goods from Wayrest and further afield. I even have some sload soap for the aspiring master alchemist.” He grinned, one of his front teeth replaced by a gold cap. “Or perhaps you are looking for Elyctra? Ambrosia? Perhaps some Daedra Silk.”

“While rare alchemical ingredients are nice, I was more looking for weapons, scrolls, and items that could help in the cold.”

The Captain seemed to judge her. “Nords in Solitude already bought all of the weapons I had aboard. Apparently want to keep anything of that nature from going east.” He chuckled. “Civil war and all, I understand. I’ll bring even more next time.” He laughed darkly. “So, you need something special. Come aboard, let’s talk business. You’re a Breton?” With her Dragon Priest mask and moonstone headband, she almost looked like an elf these days. An elf with a fantastic ass, if she could say so herself.

“So are you?” She challenged. They both grinned that special grin that a merchant enjoyed to see. 

“Not a member of the Reachfolk?” He asked. 

“Folk with coin have no home,” She started quoting a famous Wayrest bard.

“-and loyalty to no crown,” He responded, grinning.

“Except that which is in Mint!” Elayne and Captain Aerin finished the poem at the same time, cackling. 

“A lass of Wayrest, then! Excellent!” Barrels were dragged over and covered with furs to make a bargaining table. “Now, I’ve got luxury goods that may interest a merchant.” He glanced at the weapons at her belt. “Or adventurer. Skyrim can’t be too safe, I am guessing.”

Behind her mask, she could enjoy any emotion she wanted. Make faces at people that pissed her off. Aerin was at least entertaining. “Something of an adventurer. Something more of a researcher.”

“A mage and an adventurer. A rare sort.” Aerin nodded, making his men drag a chest onto the deck. “I’ve got a few things that may interest you.” He drew out a leather pouch that contained a few potions. “These here are some rare types made by the nobility of Wayrest. Love potions, potions to cure a frozen heart.” He motioned to some of the small vials. “Poison of Obsession, Poison of ignorance, and a poison of forgetfulness.” He grinned wider. “Very useful when someone wants to avoid being remembered.”

“Obsession?” Elayne asked. “Explain that one.”

“You poison someone. Make it easy, quick. They will obsess over whatever holds their attention over the next for moments. Obsession lasts for weeks, and by that time they’ve probably acted upon it. Can be useful.” Aiden said, swinging the vial around. “Ignorance is the same, and has broken many a strong marriage union.” 

“I’m not trying to accomplish much intrigue. But the obsession might be useful.”

Eola waggled her fingers. “Tell me about this love potion.”

Aiden smiled. “The love potion is simpler, yet difficult to accomplish. The potion has an activated or passive state. It’s technically not complete. You have to add something from the person the potion is going to be falling in love with! Saliva is good, but ho-ho!” He laughed, waving a finger in front of his lips as if he was keeping a secret. “There are stronger ingredients. You add any of those to the potion, and whoever then drinks the potion falls in love with the one who provided the ingredients.” 

“How long does it last?”

“Up to a year.” He grinned. “Very potent elderflower ingredients are used in its make. They sell very well in Vvardenfell, I’ll have you know. House Telvanni will often kidnap daughters of other houses and use this to make them pliant.” 

“We won’t need that.” Elayne insisted. “Do you have anything that might help against vampires or daedra?”

“Hmm.” Captain Aiden seemed to consider that for a long moment. “Sorry, I don’t exactly have much that is marketed towards warfare. Anything worth buying was snatched up in Solitude. But I do have goods from High Rock if you’re interested.”

“I’ll take a look.” Elayne allowed herself. “Though I’m not overly eager to spend money on,” She started to say, as Aiden drew out fabrics and colors that you just didn’t see in Skyrim. Dresses and robes that belonged back home, with allegiances of cities and towns left unmarked on the hems and shoulders. But in the pile was at least one enchanted set of fabrics. Elayne drew out the item, a beautiful green corset with flowering brocade. Gemstones ran around the border, promising to glitter if a dress revealed too much neckline. The laces were strong and looked well kept. But it was the perfect color to match a high end merchant back home. “What’s that?”

“Corset from Wayrest. Makes prices better, based on your luck.” He grinned. “One fifty.” She managed to haggle Aiden down to one thirty, and got a nice Wayrest outfit for herself. Something to feel like she was from High Rock sounded like just the right gift for herself. 

Next, he pulled a large crystal from the depths of his chest. “You might appreciate this. A Varla Stone. Can be used as a re-usable soul gem, or for complicated magic. Break it, and it recharges every magic item in the area. Hang it from a chandelier and it will slowly charge them. By slowly, I mean days. Weeks for more powerful items.” Aiden definitely had her attention. “It’s an Ayleid artifact. Rare find, outside of Cyrodil. Twelve hundred.”

This she felt like she had to have. Elayne ended up paying eleven hundred gold just for the Varla stone, but was extremely excited about the corset she bought. Anything to make haggling better. As they stepped back off the quays, she and Eola had spent about half the gold she had brought with her. Thousands more were under Breezehome, but that much money got heavy. Off to Silus’ museum they went, while the sun was just starting to get higher in the sky. Silus blinked owlishly at them as he opened his door, as if in shock. “Lady Dragonborn?”

“Silus.” She grinned. “I have all of the pieces, and it is only the twentieth of Sun’s Dusk.” 

“You do?” He seemed shocked. “We must make haste, then!” He dashed inside, grabbing a bag full of gear. “We have no time to lose!”

“Wait, wait, what’s the hurry?”

“Today is the summoning day of Mehrunes Dagon in lore. If we march as fast as we can, we can be at his shrine before the end of the day.” He shook his head. “No, no no. No chance of failure. We shall take horses!”

“Silus, if you think this is important, let’s split the cost of the horses.” Elayne insisted. “Where is this shrine?”

“It’s an ancient one. It’s in the hills behind Stonehills and Labyrinthian. If we ride hard, we can get there!” 

Elayne nodded. “I’m fairly familiar with that entire mountain range. Let’s go.” Even though she hadn’t slept, a couple of remove fatigue potions and she was able to ride. She and Eola on one horse, and Silus on a smaller mare. She had ridden along these roads twice in recent days, between Mzinchaleft and the hall of the vigilants. “Follow me!” She knew that there would still be bandits at Mzinchaleft. So they rode the horses hard, only taking a break at midday at a crossroads in the shadows of that Dwemer ruin. Sure enough, there were still a few archers on the walls. Riding in the cold with her elven armor made her want to chew snowberries all day, as she and Eola shivered in the northern winds. Silus had a sniffle, sneezing in the wind as they pushed hard. 

Just before the road went to Stonehills, they turned off into the mountains. The snow was thick, but the horses pushed past it. The hardy Skyrim breed didn’t seem to mind the cold at all. They were just in one of the small valleys when they passed a couple of Vigilants. They seemed to be digging out a cave entrance, using mining tools. “Lady Dragonborn!” They waved, recognizing her mask. “What brings you to this place?”

“We are looking for a way through the mountains to the other side.”

“Avoiding Labyrinthian, eh?” The taller vigilant said. He was a Nord, and seemed unbothered by the cold. “Don’t blame you. There is a dragon harassing the frost trolls that live there, and no one wants to get in between them. Well, if you don’t mind going near the peak, there is a goat trail that goes between those two peaks. Can’t miss it.” He said helpfully.

“What are you two doing here?” Elayne asked. “This storm is going to bury your work.”

“Bah!” The shorter muttered, an Imperial. “This is the place, I know it is!”

“I made a promise to help him. I’ll keep it.” the Nord shared. “He believes this is a place called Damhallow.”

“Dimhollow!” The Imperial corrected. “I found journals that point to it being important!”

“Yes, yes. Better than chasing shadowy figures near Labyrinthian, I think. Some digging doesn’t hurt, either.”

“Shadowy figures?”

“Keeper Carcette saw some report that there were daedra summoners or something avoiding towns and moving south. So a bunch of us Vigilants are out in this storm looking for them. I thought it better to dig out this.”

“You two stay safe.” Elayne said. “And I thank you for the directions.” She kicked her horse into gear, as Silus also followed. But she heard the loud Nord speak after they were on their way, his voice carrying on the wind. 

“Did you see her earrings? Signs of Oblivion.” There was a muffled reply. “Yeah, gives me the chills.”

Elayne shook her head, the earrings not making noise as she tried to put that out of her mind. But their words were correct. There was a goat path through the hills, and before the sun was down they had arrived at the base of an ancient stairway. It was buried in snow, but the three of them were hurrying up the steps. The horses had been pressed hard, and they were sweating as they reached the top. There was an ancient set of doors here, scratched and pitted from time and the elements. A long altar also filled the space, the sun’s dying light coming over the mountains. “Silus!” She barked. “What now?”

They had actually made it in time. The Imperial came over to the altar, wiping away the snow that had gathered on top of the stone. Carefully, he laid out the pieces of the razor and began chanting something in Daedric. Her earrings were chiming immediately, as though something had gone terribly wrong. She looked around, expecting an attack to come from anywhere. The sun seemed darker, and the area in front of the altar seemed to split. A crack formed in the air, and a wave of heat rolled forth. Snow melted, steaming and revealing the stone beneath. 

“ **You seek death, mortals. You impugned my sacred day with a lack of sacrifices or blood. Beg for my mercy and despair!** ” The voice that tumbled from the portal was loud, rattling the snow around them and causing a short avalanche. 

Silus whimpered, not at all prepared for this. Eola and Elayne gave each other a look. They had spoken with Molag Bal. They knew Daedric lore. “Dagon, Lord of Destruction!” Elayne spoke loud and clear. A wave of heat rushed from tdeedhe portal, melting more of the snow and raising a cloud of steam in front of the tear in reality. “We come to assemble your Razor!”

“ **You are brave or foolish. Perhaps worse. But my blade has been quiet for too long! You must bathe it in the blood of a powerful creature, to ensure that it is never shattered again. You carry the rusting weapon of Molag Bal at your belt, do you not?** ”

Elayne stood tall, letting the heat of his words rush over her. “I do. I seek the death of the son of Akatosh.”

“ **With my blade, you seek to confound the Aedra? Brave indeed. Then you must do as I demand. My blade can only be restored by an act of gruesome murder. A sacrifice. Bathe the pieces of my weapon in the blood of a Daughter of Coldharbour, and end her life. Return to me with the blood still upon the pieces, and I shall restore my weapon for you.** ” The portal shut, and the wave of heat cut off. Elayne’s robes rushed with cold soon after, a scorch mark left upon the mountain top to show where the portal had been. The stone was glowing, radiating heat. 

Eola took a deep breath. “You certainly make life interesting, Elayne.” She said, smiling. But then she looked back towards the smoking altar. “Are you alright, Silus?”

From behind the altar, the Imperial was cowering. “I am alive, Lady Dragonborn. But it appears we have company.”

Coming up the stone steps were eight figures. Each one seemed to have yellow eyes, the only thing that stood out about them in the darkness. She came to the top of the stairs, holding eye contact with all of them. “Welcome to the shrine of Mehrunes Dagon.” She said imperiously. “Be you friend or foe?”

With that word, the sun finally fell below the horizon. Without it’s light, the cold seemed to bite all the more painfully on her exposed legs. As the sun’s light left, all eight figures drew back their cloaks. Two women in front held her attention. Both were Nords. Both had dark hair and pointed faces. An Ebony warhammer rested in the hands of one, and a familiar dwarven warhammer rested in the hands of the other. “Dragonborn.” The woman who could only be Fura Bloodmouth said. “We offer you this one chance to surrender. Come with us. Our master wishes to speak to you.”

Elayne’s mind rattled as she realized what these people were. Vampires. Red eyes and sharp teeth met her thoughts. Especially those of Lydia. Her housecarl was wearing a new set of red leather armor, one that emphasized her large breasts nicely. Stupid sexy Lydia. Heeled boots and tight red skirts seemed to tease more of a glimpse, completed by the moonstone collar around her throat. “Harkon.” The other Dragonborn had defeated him. She could too. She just needed to know more. To know how. “You want me to see Harkon.”

Fura grinned, something that chilled Elayne. “I’ll have you know, I was the champion of the arena when I was alive. In death I stand undefeated.” 

“We shall see.” Elayne racked her brain for any kind of way out of this. Eight vampires against her and Eola. She didn’t trust her odds. Silus would be of little help. He admitted that he was no warrior. Looking around, she could only see a few creatures moving. In the light of the moons, she could see a dragon in the sky. Nibbling her lip, she came up with a plan on the fly. “Lydia?”

Her housecarl seemed to glare at her with some form of hatred. “What.” Her voice held no signs of kindness or their old friendship. 

“I release you from my service, and your oaths. You are no longer a part of my legend. When it is retold, your name will never be a part of it. The other Dragonborn had more respect for you than I have now.” It was cold, and cruel beyond count. But it did spark the fire. 

Lydia roared, charging up the stairs towards Elayne. “Divines take you back to the Oblivion you came from, you bitch!”

Battle was joined. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elayne:  
> Moonstone Anklets  
> Moonstone Thigh Bands  
> Navel Piercing  
> Nipple Piercings  
> Moonstone Headband
> 
> Eola:  
> Ebonite Collar  
> Ebonite Bracelets
> 
> Lydia:  
> Moonstone Collar  
> Nipple Rings  
> Navel Ring
> 
> Gabriella:  
> Daedric Ring


	19. Chapter 19: Tooth and Claw

Lydia’s hammer never met Elayne’s face, as something impeded her. Elayne’s hand raised a ward, intercepting at least two spells. Eola summoned an ice atronach, whose long claw intercepted Lydia. A torrent of cracks ran along it’s arm, but it held against the warhammer. Lydia was so much stronger now. Elayne was worried that she might die if she got a solid hit in. To her surprise, a conjured dog familiar bowled over some of the vampires. It was summoned by Silus of all people. 

Fura cut it down casually, with one sweep of her axe. Her yellow eyes were locked on Elayne, to the exclusion of all else. The other six vampires tried to edge past the frost atronach, and Eola threw twin fireballs into the group. Her atronach wasn’t going to last much longer. Elayne took a deep breath, and screamed as loud as she could. “Fus! Ro! Dah!” Lydia tried to brace herself, and Fura buried her axe in the stone of the steps. All but Fura slid down the stairs or were thrown into the trees at the base of the hill. Her throat was in pain, and the mountains around her echoed with the force of the shout. 

The Dragon she had seen earlier replied, roaring as it came to meet her. Her ward had a moment’s respite, and got back to full strength. It didn’t seem to matter to Fura. Her strike was like a giant’s, snapping her ward in half and cutting deeply into her arm. The follow up pommel strike just sent Elayne sliding back. Eola tried to come in, but Fura smoothly side stepped into her blind spot, eyes focused on Eola’s knee. She had seen this move before, when Kodlak used it! Her sword flashed out, slicing up the leg of the vampire as she began to take out Eola’s leg. 

It kept Eola on her feet, but the follow up couldn’t be so easily avoided. Eola’s armor was split open as an axe head struck her in the stomach. Eola rolled, coughing. Fura’s yellow eyes spared a glance towards Silus, before deciding he wasn’t a threat. “Surrender, Dragonborn. I can always just take one of your legs off.”

“Dragon!” Elayne warned. Eola and Silus ducked, able to see what Fura could not. Flames washed over the area, setting her and Fura afire. Burning hair and leather smelt terrible, but Elayne rolled through the snow to try to put herself out. Fura didn’t bother, keeping pace with her. Her hair was aflame, and her cloak had burned off. Elayne retreated, the vampire matching her step for step until the only area she had left to go were the shrine doors. Those were locked, of course. Using the last of her magicka, she summoned a flame atronach. Fura cut it down before it could finish forming, kicking the body away so it could explode at a distance. 

Elayne narrowed her eyes. Spells wouldn’t work here. Her weapon was probably good enough to cut through her armor, but that exchange would not end well. Twin firebolts plowed into Fura’s side, Silus screaming a battle cry as he gave his all. “Save the Dragonborn!” Everyone could hear him, for what good it did. He raised his hands, preparing another round of the spells. 

Lydia interrupted that effort, her nose bloodied as she leapt from the top of the stairs to the back of the altar. Silus’ robes did a poor effort of protecting him, and he went down screaming. Eola was up against more of the vampires, and still above their heads was a dragon. It’s breath washed over some of the vampires, but it was not enough to turn the tide. There were even wolves howling, somewhere nearby.

“Stalf!” Fura called, glancing around. “Did you summon wolves?”

“He’s still in the trees!” One of the other vampires barked. “This damned beast!” He was patting his arm, putting out the flames that were on it. One of the vampires turned to ash as he burned, turning out to just be a raised corpse. Some of these people were just thralls, then! Or perhaps risen vampires! 

Fura ignored them, moving forward and swinging her weapon. Elayne backed up, her ass now touching the doors of the shrine. “Don’t worry about the dragon. We have what we came for.” She almost sang, having now deprived Elayne of any way out. 

She had to eat those words, as the Dragon decided it was getting involved. It landed, its claws turning one of the vampires into paste and its tail whipping out to slam Eola. Finally, something hurt Fura. She glared balefully at her leg, clamped in the jaws of the Dragon. As if it were nothing but an inconvenience. Lydia came in, her warhammer bashing the dragon on the brow. It was a move they had practiced well. The Dragon let go of Fura, it’s brain rattled. “Look out!” She yelled. Hah! Warning a dragon. This was a new experience. Not that the creature appreciated it. 

Fura slid underneath it’s neck, and then used Lydia’s leg to prop herself up onto its claw. Her ebony battleaxe flashed out three times, the entire body of the dragon staggered each time. The battle around them slowed as everyone watched that third strike, as Fura Bloodmouth killed the dragon. Her ebony axe was buried so deeply that it might have cut the entire head off. She grinned, revelling in the kill. Then she leaned forward, to taste the blood covering her axe. 

Of course, that was when Elayne’s Dragonborn powers kicked in, and the blood and flesh of the creature burned away as she absorbed its soul. The pure scorn that Fura had for her could be felt, as she looked down at her clean axe. “You would deny me a Dragon’s blood?” 

Elayne laughed, measuring her chances. Absorbing a Dragon soul always gave her a rush, and brought back her magic. Fura and Lydia were still here, along with two of their allies. Another had gone down at some point, hopefully to Eola. She didn’t see her princess of the reach around, since she got hit by that Dragon. “I’ll deny you everything. With every soul I take, I grow stronger.”

“I’ve broken every ally you have. Killed your pet beast. Do you really want to lose a limb?” Fura scoffed. Lydia was looking around, agreeing with the woman. 

“Give up, Elayne. She’s too powerful even if you had the entire city guard at your back.” Her ex-housecarl warned. “You’ve never killed a Dragon in just three hits.”

She had not. “It doesn’t matter.” A new voice spoke. An old grandfatherly voice. Everyone turned, to see an old man in a cloak standing where one of the vampires had just been. His broken body looked to be cut down by a single strike. “The Companions have been hunting you as soon as you landed on the coast. You move fast, but we never break out oaths.”

“More meat for the slaughter.” Fura murmured. “Just one of you?”

“The entire Circle is here.” Kodlak whispered, his skyforge steel sword glowing with powerful enchantments. “I remember the last time we fought you.”

“I took your sweet Hestla Greymane.” Fura preened. “Carried her off and tortured her until she broke.” 

Three more figures came up the stairs. Vilkas, Aela and Skjor of the Companions were here. All three of them looked downright murderous. “I no longer have the heart of a young man, to rise to such insults. For Ysgramor!” 

Elayne tried to move forwards, but Lydia came to meet her. Out of habit from sparring with her, she swung her sword out to meet the Dwarven warhammer. She was rudely awakened, the greater vampiric strength shattering her weapon, but the dwarven metal looked strained. Elayne threw twin firebolts into Lydia, and the Nord screamed in pain. In return, Lydia swept her legs, knocking her to the ground and holding the pointed back of the warhammer to her neck. “Watch.” She said cruelly. “Fura is going to win.”

Skjor and Aela seemed to go after the other Vampires with their swords and bow. Vilkas drew his own Skyforge steel warhammer, it glowing with a strong fire enchantment. He and Fura exchanged their first blow, the heads of their weapons clanging with great force. Fura spun, faster than any human could go. Yet Vilkas saw it coming, glancing the weapon into the snow below him and hammering his elbow into her ribcage. Fura mule kicked Vilkas off of her, knocking him back only enough to let Kodlak step in. The grandfatherly master of the Companions looked like death itself, his weapon carving long slices into Fura as he kept close. He was fast, even in his old age. 

Fura took the hits, and managed to hit the old man. Her axe bit through the skyforge steel of his armor with no trouble, cutting his side. Kodlak stepped back, as Vilkas got back into the fight. Fura was bleeding from at least one strike to her head, and her hair no longer looked perfect. With a scream, she parried a strike from the warhammer and stepped on its head. “You’re good, boy! But you cannot defeat me with such a measly weapon!” Fura brought her ebony battleaxe down, splitting the wooden hilt of Vilkas’ weapon. Her follow up strike carved into his chest. “You learned that the last time!”

Kodlak was back, his sword flashing out once again, and a shield in his hands. Bashing the vampire didn’t seem to help, just annoying her. “No secrets! Now, Companions!” 

The light of the fires seemed darker for a moment, as Elayne’s earrings made noise. Something of Oblivion was happening. Vilkas and Aela clutched their chests, and Skjor threw down his weapon and growled. All of them grew, muscles rippling as they transformed into something else entirely. Kodlak also dropped his weapons, as the same transformation washed over him. Werewolves rose to challenge the now-shorter Vampires. Kodlak and Skjor looked older, touches of grey and white across their fur. Aela and Vilkas didn’t have the marks of age. 

“Werewolves? You think that will be enough!” Fura swung her ebony weapon right at Kodlak. The werewolf caught the weapon in his teeth, to the shock of the vampire. More shocking, Elayne swore she could see some kind of magic going on. But under the teeth of the Harbinger, the ebony shattered. Fura was left weaponless against the approaching foes. “You broke my axe!”

Kodlak made a woofing laughter, approaching slowly. He would probably have some age old wisdom to say about that if he could. Aela and Skjor leapt upon the other vampires, and Vilkas swept in from the side, his claws cutting off much of Fura’s armor on her back. “Here!” Lydia yelled, tossing her the dwarven warhammer. Of course, being Lydia she had a backup weapon at Elayne’s throat to follow. 

Now armed, Fura became a swirling force of chaos. Vilkas had his shoulder broken by the hammer, as the female vampire expertly wove around his claws. She was avoiding Kodlak, focusing on the younger werewolf. Bruises were showing through the fur, until Fura landed a massive strike to his jaw, knocking out the man. But in doing so, the dwarven warhammer gave up the ghost. The haft bent, the head no longer aligned. Kodlak woofed another laugh, as if daring her to try. She just chuckled. “Since we last met, I have not been idle. I am the executioner of the court of Lord Harkon. He would never accept a weakling in that position! His blood has blessed me, and I do this in his name.” 

Fura was covered in some kind of transformation, as bats seemed to appear from shadows to fill in parts of her. The night seemed even darker for a moment, as Elayne’s earrings rang even louder. Whatever Fura was now, it had wings. Her claws were longer than any of the Companion’s, and as she raised her head, it was clear that she was even taller than the werewolves. Her features were monstrous, and great fangs came out of her mouth. “I told you.” Lydia whispered. “You stupid girl. Why didn’t you just surrender. Now that she’s transformed, she might just kill you out of spite.”

Kodlak barked some kind of orders, as Aela and Skjor started to move towards Lydia. Fura casually summoned a creature made of stone in between them, and her feet left the ground. The two beasts screamed, and began clawing one another. It wasn’t the refined battle that humanoids would have. It was bestial, with blood on both sides coming off in grout gouts. First one and then the other would carve, with barely any regard for their own defense. Aela and Skjor got into the battle, but it was clear that the vampiric powers were giving Fura back her health with every strike. Kodlak had no such benefit. The old man finally stepped back, growling as Fura hissed. 

It was Aela that got the lucky strike in. Coming from behind, she tore apart Fura’s right arm. Hissing, Fura looked at the still capable warriors. When one was taking a strike, the other would come from the side. The battle was turning against her!

Fura screamed in frustration. She turned back towards Elayne, her form blurring as it broke into a thousand small bats. It reformed, Elayne screaming as the two clawed feet clamped down upon her shoulders. Some kind of levitation effect took hold of her, as well as Fura. Her wings flapped, and Fura leapt over the edge of the shrine. The werewolves snarled, unable to follow. The spindly wings held, gliding over the terrain and moving at a pace that no normal human would be able to match. 

“Come on, you bitch.” Elayne yelled. She tried to reach for a weapon, but the claws dug in, her armor breaking under the pressure and the claws piercing her skin. Screaming at her own pain, she looked up. The moons were the only thing above them, and trees were flashing by at great speed. “Be the hero!” She whispered, mostly to herself. “Yol! Toor!” Claws dug in, but Elayne was ready for them. That second word was more of a scream than a shout, a wave of dragonfire striking Fura’s body with great force. Pieces of her broke off like flashes of power, until the transformation broke. Both women fell into a snowdrift, Elayne’s arms barely able to move and bleeding heavily. 

Fura rose, one arm ruined and the other glowing with a drain life spell. “I will not be defeated by some hero. Not by you, and not by any champion!” 

From behind her, another werewolf emerged. This one looked unhurt, and Elayne gasped. Fura grinned, not seeing. Well, until the entire maw of the werewolf closed down upon her and shook her like a dog would a rabbit. When Fura finally went still, Elayne slumped to the ground and used some of her magic to heal herself. The werewolf offered her his hand, claws turned away. Taking him by the wrist, as it was most certainly a male she stood up. “Thank you.” She rasped. 

The werewolf woofed happily. She leaned against him, as they made their way back to the shrine. The broken body of Fura Bloodmouth he dragged in one hand, and any fears of this beastial creature were put off by the fact that they had just saved her. When she got to the top of the stairs, she could see everyone else in their human form once again. Lydia lay on the altar, chained down. Aela was the only one fully dressed. Everyone else was pulling armor on, except for a very naked and very armed Kodlak. 

The last werewolf, the one with her tossed the body of Fura onto the floor. “My apologies for this, Lady Elayne.” Kodlak spoke up, sounding tired. “But I must ask you to keep what you saw tonight a secret. The difference between a noble band of warriors and a ragged band of assassins is as thin as a blade’s edge. We have our nobility, and our code as warriors. To our enemies and our clients. We are glad to have fought with you.” He grinned, unconcerned about his everything being exposed to the cold winds. “Lydia surrendered, and as per our oaths, we shall not kill her. She has committed no crime in any hold we can prove, but as your housecarl she owes you more than just her loyalty. She owes you her life.”

Lydia scowled, chained to the altar. The pieces of Mehrunes Razor were off to the side, gently organized. “I need a minute.” Elayne said, coughing gently. “Eola!” She yelled, voice hoarse. As she said that, she flushed at the sight of the last werewolf shifting back to into human form. It was Farkas, who shook his head and spat. 

The dragon skeleton shifted, and a bloody and battered Eola stepped out of the mess. “Holy nord dicks.” Eola said, looking around. “We’re alive!”

That prompted rapid dressing from the Companions, especially Skjor for some reason. Elayne was going to be remembering this all later. Thankfully her injuries were keeping her from thinking too hard about it, and she caught herself licking her lips. Shaking her head, she stepped past the still smoking mark from Mehrunes Dagon and towards the pile of bodies that had been collected. Fura was wearing an enchanted armor, as were a couple of other vampires. She stripped the dead of any valuables, with the help of Eola. The Companions took a few weapons they found interesting, while Kodlak picked up the shattered axe of Fura Bloodmouth. 

“She still had it.” The old man breathed in relief. From the shards, he drew forth a gleaming piece of ancient black metal. “A fragment of Wuuthrad.” The Companions seemed to react to this, even as Eola shrugged and kept working a gauntlet off of a ruined hand. 

“What is that?” Elayne asked, standing on her heels and taking a look. 

“A piece of Ysgramor’s weapon. He founded the Companions, but his axe was broken long ago. We most ardently hope to one day put it back together.” Kodlak sighed in relief, groaning as he pulled his cloak back over his shoulders. “That woman hit like a mammoth.”

Vilkas mumbled something, his entire face a bruised mess. It sounded something like ‘ow’. “I have some potions if anyone needs them.” Elayne offered, the Companions looking quite pleased to accept. Her stock was exhausted, and it was enough to help. But all of them were going to need some time recuperating. Before that could happen, they all came to the altar. Eola was grinning, looking down at her. “Lydia. I have questions for you.”

“My..” She started saying, before her yellow eyes shifted left, to look at anyone but her. “Elayne.” She coughed. “You defeated them. I too, have my honor as a warrior. I no longer can claim any other honorifics. They ensorcelled me, and I betrayed your trust. They turned me into a vampire. Poured blood down my throat, and then let me starve for days until I begged for mercy. I ate someone, and I couldn’t stop myself.” Lydia whispered, a tortured sound in her throat. “Fura laughed at me. Beat me time after time and threw me back into the cage. She was a monster.”

“More than two hundred years of skyrim’s dead now are at peace.” Kodlak whispered at that. 

“Was this about the Daedra?” Elayne asked, looking at Lydia’s neck. Where the moonstone collar rested. 

“Of course it was about the Daedra! You cavort with them like they are your friends! When you should be courting the Divines’ aid against their wayward child. I’ve never seen you go into the temple of Kynareth. In Solitude you won’t go near the temple there. You instead walk Oblivion, as if that will help you with this world’s problems!” She strained against the chains, which held. It looked like the Companions were prepared to take Lydia home no matter what condition she was in. “They took the Elder Scroll. They knew exactly what it was. They let me watch as Harkon rewarded Fura for it.” 

“Tell me about him.” Elayne demanded, pressing her hands into Lydia’s arm. 

“He’s terrifying. Worse than any dragon or general. He just looks at you, and every part of your body goes numb. As if the very blood in your veins freezes. He didn’t even speak with me directly. But it was enough. Oh, Elayne. He’s looking for another scroll. He has two Elder Scrolls, now. He apparently had one already, and needs one more for some kind of plan. Fura wouldn’t shut up about it.”

“Why did they want me?”

“They think you can help them find the last one. Someone named Serana has it.” Lydia shuddered. “You mentioned the name, to me. And I told them I had heard it before! They think you know where she is!”

Elayne also shuddered. “You’ve betrayed me more than you know. After Alduin, Harkon plans on threatening the world. I don’t know what he is planning, but I know it will be a threat.”

“He will never stop hunting you. Now that he has your scent, he will never stop.” Lydia whispered. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry for cursing you, and making that deal with your damned book.”

“Lydia.” Elayne’s voice was not as strong as she wanted it to be. “Where is Harkon?”

“You stupid bitch, you’ll go right to him!” Lydia spat. “You said I’m no longer your housecarl. I still don’t want the world to end! So, I won’t tell you!” She coughed, something in her sounding weak. “I’ve given up too much to come crawling back to you.”

“Then what do you want, Lydia?” Elayne dared to ask. “You say you’ve given up much, and carried my burdens. You thought you were going to take Irileth’s place.” Lydia closed her eyes. That stung, to be reminded of that. “You could have been a Companion.”

“I don’t want to be a monster.” Lydia whispered, bloody tears running down her cheeks. “I don’t want to kill people. I hate you, Elayne. But I don’t want your pity.” The Nord lay her head back on the altar, the tear tracks running towards her ears. “I want a noble death. Send me to Sovngard.”

Kodlak cleared his throat. “It doesn’t work that way, Lydia. You contracted the disease of vampirism. It is something that touches the soul and the body. Your soul will never touch Sovngard. Just as anyone else touched by the Daedra are most likely going to those realms after they die. Your soul belongs to Molag Bal. No matter how you die, it will go there.”

Lydia’s mouth became a thin line. She sniffled. Elayne knew how important the Divines were to her. “Do you know of a cure?” Her voice sounded so very small. 

“I would not lie to you, Sweet Lydia. I do not.” Kodlak explained. “But the Companions cannot take in members who are vampires. We have tried in the past, but Jorrvaskr has not been a good place to host such appetites or trauma.”

“Then end it, Elayne.” Lydia pleaded. “I betrayed you. At least I will have my honor restored if you do the deed.” 

“Your remains will be interred with your forefathers in honor.” Kodlak promised. “I will insist, and Balgruuf will have no quarter. Is there anything else we can do for you?”

“You sang for me when I became a woman.” She whispered. “I want to go out with the sound of your voices.”

Elayne was forced to drink a remove disease potion, as well as Eola. Apparently vampires were nasty creatures. Neither of them wanted to share Lydia’s fate. Eola brought out the rusty mace from her bag, as the Companions began a somber song. The Nordic lilt to the song seemed to echo through the frozen hills, a promise of peace in death, and a promise of joy in the hereafter. “If her soul belongs to Molag Bal already, then he would be pleased if you used his mace to do the deed.” The Breton whispered. 

Elayne felt nothing in her heart as she stood by the altar. The Companions were singing, and Lydia had her eyes closed. She gave her own prayer, to anything that was listening. “You deserved better. Sovngard would have been proud to have you.” She barely noticed the mace losing its rusty appearance and becoming a dark green daedric metal instead. She only cried, not even sure why. “I didn’t want this.” She said, once the deed was done. Once her friend was gone. “We were supposed to save the world together!” 

The glowing mace of Molag Bal seemed to mock her. Eola and the others said nothing, as they all took Lydia’s remains from the shrine of Mehrunes Dagon. Through all of the destruction and death, the doors remained firmly shut. Somehow, that bothered her greatly. Silus’ remains were also gathered, to be taken back to Dawnstar. Kodlak loped along at her side, wincing from his own injuries. 

“We will accept your potions as payment enough.” The old man whispered. “I am so sorry for your loss.”

“I couldn’t have won without your help.” She stared at him. “Will you still refuse to tell me where Harkon resides?”

“To my dying breath.” He promised. “I will not help you throw your life away. The world needs you. We all hurt right now, and making hasty decisions is what leads to wars and mourning mothers. If you are in the position of fighting those creatures in their home at an even advantage? I will help you. We Companions would be dishonored if you went to such a place without us at your back, do you understand?”

“I understand.” She said wistfully. 

“We would fight Alduin with you, if we could.”

“Maybe werewolf claws would pierce his skin where normal weapons could not.” She smiled. “But right now the only thing that can hurt him are artifact weapons.” Like the one she just killed Lydia with. The thought filled her with disgust, which probably appeased the prince of domination. He loved schemes. “Do you know what a daughter of Coldharbour is?” She asked, carefully.

Kodlak winced. “I happen to.”

“Will you tell me?”

“Not until my dying breath.”

Elayne sighed deeply. “It matters, Kodlak.”

The old man ignored her, just whistling as the wind picked up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elayne:  
> Moonstone Anklets  
> Moonstone Thigh Bands  
> Navel Piercing  
> Nipple Piercings  
> Moonstone Headband
> 
> Eola:  
> Ebonite Collar  
> Ebonite Bracelets
> 
> Gabriella:  
> Daedric Ring


	20. Chapter 20: The New Radiant

Dawnstar’s two rooms for rent in the inn became cramped very quickly. Aela, Elayne and Eola had to share a room and a bed, while Kodlak, Skjor, Vilkas and Farkas had to share the other room. Elayne knew she was going to lose her clothes sleeping, but she was so exhausted she didn’t care. Waking up was a different story, as she found herself spooned between a naked Aela and Eola. Her squeal woke the three of them, and she swore she got the wrong smallclothes off the floor. 

The Companions were headed back to Whiterun, and Elayne had to go to the White Hall and explain what happened to Silus to Jarl Skald the Elder. The old man couldn’t care less, mocking the young fool for getting into trouble. Elayne was of the opinion that he was two skeevers short of a horker, as the locals called anyone odd. The court wizard kindly took Silus’ remains and thanked Elayne for at least entertaining his interests. There was definitely a story between them, probably the only two mages in the city. Judging by the hurt look on Madena’s face, there was definitely a history. 

With armor damaged and her main weapon shattered they needed repairing. Dawnstar’s blacksmith was overrun with orders for the Stormcloaks, and didn’t have the time to fiddle with ‘elven shite’. It was more than a day’s ride back to whiterun with their one horse, and the bay was still blocked by an iceberg. Going by ship was not an option. So that left only one way to get to a place where there was skilled enough labor to fix her gear and have a chance at finding a decent weapon. Shivering in their ill-suited backup clothing, Elayne and Eola rode the horse together all the way to Solitude, only being interrupted twice. Once for a frost troll, and the other for a Wispmother as they were making their way over the pass into Morthal. They spent the night in that inn, trying to sleep over the sounds of the orc bard. 

Eola, the cheeky bitch, decided to go to sleep naked. Elayne tried not to cuddle her during the night, but the marsh was cold and her body seemed to be on automatic. Eola found it entertaining in the highest respect, and in the morning light they rode towards Skyrim’s capitol. They took the long way around Fort Snowhawk, as the guards reminded them of the presence of Necromancers in the keep. Neither wanted to mess with conjurers without good armor or weapons. The horse was annoyed with her heeled shoes long before they passed Dragon’s Bridge, but by evening they had reached Solitude. Not too late that the gates were shut, but certainly too late for the merchants to be open. After a night at the winking skeever, Elayne had spent more than fifty of her hard earned gold just traveling along the roads. The alchemical ingredients she had picked up from the wispmother and her summoned creatures would barely break even on that. Again, Eola slept naked. Elayne kept the door firmly locked, and frowned as she made the conscious decision to strip before bed. 

“If I’m just going to end up naked anyways,” She started saying. 

“Come on, you like showing off your jewelry.” Eola said, smiling in just her collar and locked bracelets. “Every time you walk they swing, and i bet the gems are filled by now.”

“Filled?”

“Well, your dagger is nearly out of charges. Why don’t you refill from them.” It was actually completely drained, after the Wispmother. “And they are soul gems. Get some use out of them.”

Elayne sat in bed, deciding it might be worthwhile. Normally a soul gem might break if you try to use the soul within. Very carefully, she tried to draw out the power from the gem in her navel. Power started flowing from the gem, but then the ring glowed, the moonstone lighting up with symbols. Her entire body grew hot, and Elayne gasped for air like a dying woman. Like the very fires of the Deadlands had made their home in her body, every nerve ending from her fingers to toes was screaming as she drew the soul out, recharging the dagger. Slumped on the bed, she could only regain her breath as she held the once again glowing dagger. “Ah.” She just gaped for breathe, rolling over so that the white hot moonstone stopped touching everywhere. All three gems hung like decorative crystals, her tiny breasts barely changing shape from the position. 

“Try one of the other gems next!” Eola smirked. 

“Not on your life!” Elayne hissed. “Gods!” Her legs shook, and her arms all shook with them as wet heat seemed to radiate from her core. It took a frost spell to finally calm her body down, at which point her teeth were chattering and the only source of warmth in the room was Eola. Justice was richly served by an icy cold foot straight to the lower back. Suffice to say, neither woman was fully rested or at their best the next morning. Grumbling, they both put on long dresses and a set of smalls to head out for the blacksmiths. 

It cost almost twelve hundred of their seventeen hundred gold to repair her elven armor, buy a new elven sword with a shocking enchantment, and commission a duplicate armor for Eola’s size. The blacksmith had no issue making what he called ‘Elven Light Armor’. After selling all of the vampiric gear at Bits and Pieces, and their dust and the alchemical components across the square Elayne was proud to see more than three thousand septims in her bag. All of which were the big coins! She had never had so many before! 

“We have plenty of money.” Elayne mused. “What do you think we should get? You’ve got an enchanted sword, I’ve got one. Our armor will be done soon, and we’ve got three thousand and fifty gold.”

Eola was on a high, too. “You know, I want a pair of heels that isn’t cheap. The ones you gave me were nice, but they are really not that high of quality. Why don’t we get you fitted for some more clothes, too. People should see what their hero is really like, after all. Right now if they run into you it looks like you are rich in appearance but your clothes are terrible.”

“Not a bad idea. I got this old dress from a shop in Riften. I’ve washed it, but I always have to tie it in a lot more. Let’s say we spend a hundred gold on clothing. Some nice fur clothes for both of us.”

“What do the Reach folk think of such things?”

“They used to be very fashionable. They liked to buy styles that were popular in Wayrest or Daggerfall. The goods had to pass through Orsinium or Solitude so it was very fashionable to have them. My aunt said there used to be a really good tailor next to the Hag’s Cure.”

“So why the bone and feather getups?”

“I think there were some cultists around before the fall who lived in nature and openly worshipped the daedra.” Elayne considered. “At least, that’s what my aunt told me. Apparently it is a more modern view of something called void worship. Weird to hear it mentioned anymore, but I think personally they were venerating the ravens they think are sacred.” She said, not invoking the full pronoun of Hagraven in public. 

“No one ever explained it to me like that. People in Markarth would just say they had become filthy and degenerate in their daedra worship. Given up on normal human styles or wanting to share any identification with the Nords that drove them out.” 

“I’m sure there are a lot of people who feel that way.” Elayne murmured. “Like in that basement. They might be happier being able to worship openly.”

Eola stopped for a moment, taking Elayne to a low stone edifice to sit down. “Would the Reachfolk ever accept giving up Markarth?” She asked quietly. Amongst the bustle and noise of the street, they had effective privacy. 

“They’ve lived in the Reach for generations. There aren’t any other cities that could be used there.”

“I think you’re wrong on that.” Eola pointed out. “What we would need was a way to come to an agreement. The Empire might-”

“Not without a very good reason.” Elayne interrupted. “The Reach and the Empire were in talks when the Nords formed a militia and came down to fight them.”

“They’ve already got one civil war. What’s the threat of one more?”

“You laugh now, but there are legions in Orsinium and High Rock that could be called in. Morrowind and Cyrodil have mercenary companies that could be raised, if things in Skyrim got truly terrible. Tulius and his legion are representing much more military power that can be projected.”

“Then why don’t they do that already?”

“Because of the Nords. They don’t want to crush them so badly that they will snap under pressure. Most Nords feel like the Empire is their connection to Talos, and if the Empire trampled them down it would make them lose that faith. I think the Empire wants to keep damage and insults to the absolute minimum.”

“Weakness on both sides.” Eola spat.

“These people are the ones that you’ll have to make peace with.” Elayne pointed out. “You need practice in dealing with them. Though you won’t have any issue with the Thalmor. They don’t care about daedra worship.”

“But the Empire will. And the Reachfolk will not want to hide their beliefs.” Eola murmured. “Would they be willing to hide them again?”

“If you build a very pretty cathedral I am certain the Nords would find the few families that worship daedra to be the opposite of dangerous. Though that means you’ll have to pick a divine to have as your patron. As well as a shrine of Arkay for the dead.”

Eola hissed. “Elayne, that’s horrible to mention!”

“Practice.” She whispered. “Come on, let’s try Radiant Raiment. I think if we are going to find anything from the other world, it will be in here.”

Entering the store felt a bit odd. As if they were both underdressed for the experience. Eola was wearing a large dress that covered her collar and the ebonite bracelets that she had gotten for using  _ Captured Dreams _ . Elayne had one too, covering her thigh bands and not quite fitting her waist. It did fit her ass, at least. But upon entry, the door rang a little bell that wasn’t there before. Their heels clicked on the floor, and Elayne could hear other pairs of high heels moving in the store towards them. 

“Welcome back to our store, Lady Dragonborn.” Endarie called from the front desk. “We must thank you for your patronage earlier. The Jarl has ordered from our store instead of Cyrodil in honor of you.” The Altmer’s smile was wide. “What can we do for you?” The other world’s changes had definitely made their way here. Endarie was wearing a dress that split open at the throat and only came back together at the navel. It bared both breasts, revealing the complete lack of breastband holding her up. Elayne gulped at that. 

“I’ve come looking for some shoes, and a few new dresses.” Elayne took off her dragon priest mask. Endarie’s smile widened even further at the sight of her face. “Smallclothes, and the same for my friend Eola here.” 

“Taarie, lock the door. The store is yours, Dragonborn.” Taarie was wearing a near copy of her sister’s dress, a slit in the skirt flashing gold skinned legs whenever she walked. Elayne felt a bit of a thrill when she saw the heels that she was wearing, of very high quality. There had to be some kind of platinum or harder metal in them!

“Please, call me Elayne.” She said. “Everyone just knows me as the Dragonborn, but I’m starting to have to reveal more of my life outside of being the Dragonborn.”

“Oh that hair.” Taarie whispered, running a hand along one of the blue strands. “Beautiful. If you’re looking for the right place to get help, we are quite capable of helping you. Our niece Yodie is also here to visit, as well. She’s exceptional with hair and hair magic.”

“Hair magic?” Elayne had never heard of hair magic. It sounded so vain! Taarie brought forward a low chair, padded and comfortable. Elayne sat down, watching as Taarie bustled about with hushed whispers in Aldermis with her sister. Their heels clicked as both moved around the store, bringing out tools and measuring tape. 

“Take off your shoes, darling. I’ll go see what we have in stock that fits your feet.” Endarie offered. “Your dress, too. And smalls. If you are getting everything we should start with the whole package.” Elayne blushed a bit, but sat down to take off her shoes first. She handed over the moonstone and quicksilver shoes, which made Taarie coo with delight. “Oh, these are fabulous!” 

“Thank you.” Elayne offered, pulling her dress over her head. She folded it and set it off to the side, feeling self conscious about the bands around her thighs and ankles. Eola stepped behind her, yanking off her breastband and releasing her tiny breasts. Her squeal at that brought the attention of both Altmer, who grinned at the sight of the gems hanging from her. 

“Elayne, where did you come by these? They are most expensive!” Endarie asked, in awe. The Altmer stepped close, setting one hand on the arm of the chair and with the other holding the soul gem that hung from her navel. “I should know.” The Altmer let go, reaching up and pulling her own dress open further, showing off her own breasts. Which were somehow larger than Elayne’s. Twin rings of moonstone pierced her, glowing with some kind of enchantment. 

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” Endarie’s hands closed her dress, as Elayne felt flush sitting in the chair naked. Somehow Eola had dragged her smallclothes completely off as she was distracted. “I can’t get them off.”

“Why would you ever remove them?” Taarie smiled. “They are too useful indeed.”

“I don’t even know what they do!”

Endarie moved her attention to the thigh bands around her legs. She spoke a word of magic, and traced something with her hands near both of the thigh bands. Glowing ethereal chains seemed to come out of the band, following Endarie’s fingers as she pointed. They shot underneath the chair, and then pulled tight, dragging Elayne all the way into the seat. A tap on both of her ankles, and Elayne could feel herself bound to the chair with her legs. “You’re wearing a master set meant for wives and concubines of a very rich noble.”

“What?!” She tried to move, but the ethereal chains may as well have been solid. She could move her hand through them, even. “Let me go!”

“Oh most certainly not!” Endarie mused. “You wanted a full makeover.” She took the dress from the side, along with the smallclothes. “Taarie, burn these. The Dragonborn is going to look well suited! I must get Yodie!” Both Altmer took her things, heading off to go do disparate tasks. All the while, Elayne was stuck in this extremely heavy chair! She wiggled, nipples aching as the gems swung back and forth with every attempt to escape.

“Eola, help!” She hissed. 

“I am helping.” The other Breton grinned. “Listen, this book is making you into something you aren’t used to being. I say get ahead of it. If things from the other world are going to keep affecting you, perhaps you should learn from them. Plus, they know how all of these things work. So maybe if you entertain them they will tell you how the pieces you don’t have yet will work. Sit back in that chair, try to enjoy this somehow.” Eola snickered, laughing. “I’m certain you’ll make me look like quite the princess after you look like what they think a hero should be.”

“I have kohl on my eyes and I look like a whore!” Elayne hissed. “They are going to assume-” She was interrupted by three sets of heels returning. Their niece was not quite as tall, but she wore a diaphanous gown which clearly showed a corset underneath. And little else. Yodie looked at Elayne and her eyes twinkled. “Miss Elayne, it is a pleasure to meet you. I am Yodie. Hairdresser and alchemist of magics associated with that.”

“Nice to meet you.” Elayne said, out of habit as she tried to resist the desire to cover her nipples. Again, all of these Altmer had larger breasts than her! What was this world coming to! At least now she was absolutely certain that Eola was the only person in this room whose nipples weren’t pierced. “Can you tell me how these work?”

“No one explained to you when they were applied?” Yodie looked horrified. “You poor soul! Oh, darling let me explain!” Yodie came near, hefting each of the soul gems. “Each of these protect you from spells. They resist some magic. If you use your racial power, you would nearly be immune to spells. So whoever gave these to you was very kind. Very sweet. Combined with your power you can defeat any mage in combat.” Elayne wouldn’t call  _ Captured Dreams _ sweet. But it did bring her comfort to know that these things weren’t useless. “It’s too bad you don’t have much to show off here. I’m all out of ingredients to make alchemical compounds for that.”

“What would you need?” Elayne’s lips murmured. Her house had been ransacked of potion ingredients, and she had sold off the rest when she arrived in Solitude. “I would try to get it for you.”

“Oh!” Yodie blushed. “I’m sorry, my aunts used all of the potions. But I am sure I could make more if I had some Kresh weed. It only comes from the eastern part of Morrowind.” So that was how they were so large! Elayne felt a burst of jealousy. “Though there are ways of taking parts of cadavers to replicate the effect, I don’t prefer to make alchemical ingredients from that. If you were to find me some Kresh fibers from Morrowind, or some Nymph hair. I’ve traveled here to Solitude to deliver potions my aunts paid for a few years ago. It has quite put me off traveling for a good while longer.”

Elayne was crestfallen. “Sorry for being demanding.”

“I would want some if I had breasts like that, too.” Yodie said without any vitriol. “So who gave you the slave bands?”

“I can’t say.” Elayne folded her arms, feeling on display. 

“Well, I can’t see the maker’s mark. They’re on the inside. You’ll need the maker’s blood to get them off. And there are only two people in this province that even make those!”

“Who?” She asked, eagerly. 

“Ondolemar and Rulindil, of course.” Yodie said, as if she was speaking to someone stupid. Which most Altmer seemed to act like. “Very important people, and very potent craftsmen. If you’re wearing a set from either of them they must have a reason for you to have them. A sign of their favor.”

“It makes wearing armor harder.” Elayne pointed out. 

“Well, hero.” Taarie smiled, as fabric in many colors started being brought out. “Your friend here has mentioned that you like to have a lot of fun when you aren’t running around as a hero.” The word fun was intensified on her tongue. “We are redesigning your style for that. And you’ve been hiding your gifts from your Thalmor friend, so we got you some beautiful things to show them off!” Eola unceremoniously dumped out all of her clothing from her bag, and she watched in horror as they just threw all of her clothes into a bin. The only thing they kept was the maid outfit. She was about to scream something at them, but remembered Eola’s words. She at least knew more now than she did before. And it was just clothing. She could always pay for more elsewhere. 

“So long as you aren’t throwing away armor, I am perfectly fine.” She lied smoothly. 

“Certainly.” They took out the cheap heels that Belethor had given her more than a month ago, and made a sound in the back of their throats as those also went into the bin. “If you are a hero, you should at least look like anyone who has seen you would never forget it. And this corset you bought! Cursed to oblivion. If you had worn it, you would have been drained of personality. Horrible, just horrible.” 

That captain in Dawnstar had fleeced her! The bastard! “Ugh. I paid good money for that, too.”

“Don’t worry, dear. You’ll not have to worry after today.” Endarie stepped over with some kind of lace. It was wrapped around her torso, and pulled tight at the base of her breasts. The fine fabric tickled, and then lifted gently. Again and again Endarie brought it around, until Elayne was staring at a new breastband, one that seemed to let her gems swing freely, but also support her. “See? If you absolutely must cover up those gems, you should at least feel comfortable. Nords use wool up here. Sometimes linen. Dreadful, absolutely dreadful.” Well, Elayne didn’t mind this very much. In fact, it felt very nice.

Measuring tape ran up and down her form, with Endarie unlocking her ankles to measure her leg as it was extended. And then snapped it right back into a locked position, leaving Elayne to watch as the three Altmer ran around the shop grabbing dress frames and running fabric and numbers all across it. Apparently she had an Aldmeri waist. Though when the elves got to setting her ass on the dress making frame, they cranked it wide. “Well, darling, anyone behind you is going to be very appreciative.”

“That’s the only compliment my mother ever gave me. Tried to set me up to marry a merchant from Northpointe.” She tried to make small talk, consciously aware of the one piece of fabric on her. “So how do these bands work?” She asked the burning question.

“Oh, those!” Endarie was holding up fabrics and colors before Elayne, the signature blue of Wayrest clashing with her hair. “Meant for the wife or concubine that likes to run away. Or is disobedient. Simply say the word ‘Shauta’ and tap the band. Then tap the place you want the magic to attach to. It will drain them to do it, but whoever got you those thoughtful piercings has already accounted for it. Those soul gems will charge your slave bands. The slave bands cannot be cancelled until the command word is spoken by another creature. You can’t free yourself.” The Altmer was saying, as Elayne was just considering it. “So long as you have magicka to give, you are wearing enough that keeps you from ever running out of charge on your wonderful experience.” 

“It was forced upon me.” Elayne pointed out, as a bright red was brought over that made her wince. “Not that.”

Endarie glared at Yodie, the one who had chosen that. “Indeed. Go busy yourself elsewhere.” Apparently the scorn that the altmer used like a knife extended to family. 

“Eola here wants her hair done.” Elayne said helpfully. “She’s growing it out, but wants a style that covers the scars on her face and ear.” Eola looked venomous at that. 

Yodie cackled and threw Eola into a second chair off to the side. Endarie nodded approvingly as she brought over soft whites and creams. “You said this was forced upon you?”

“Yes.” Elayne looked down at her navel, the gem sitting softly. “I didn’t exactly agree to this.”

“Then you’ll be just like all those who did want it and just screamed injustice. Amongst the Thalmor, the only way to win back your identity in these situations is to gain more power than the one who has forced it onto you. We think this in terms of decades and centuries. I think a queen wore some of these, once. But I won’t bore you with her story. It hardly is impacted by them. Just as you only find wearing pants difficult. None of this stops you from being a hero.”

It did feel good to hear that. “Thank you, Endarie. That means a lot to me. They, uh, keep giving me the items and don’t explain what they do.”

“So you’ve come to the right place. I’ll tell you, on one condition.”

“Which is?”

“That if you aren’t wearing armor, you only wear Radiant Raiment. I want the hero of this province to be known for her look, and her sense of style. So if you promise to only wear the clothing we give you when you aren’t fighting dragons and saving insipid men who don’t know what they’re doing, I will tell you about the things you may yet find yourself wearing.”

Elayne bit her lip, hearing Eola screech about something in the background. That was some promise. “Will it keep me warm in the cold?”

“Fashion has many sacrifices.” Endarie held up a slim silver ring. “But this will keep the cold off your skin. It can’t resist it all, but it will let you strut your stuff anywhere but Solstheim. That place is only warm enough in the summer for anyone to go into. Much less live.” She seemed to find the place downright insulting. The Altmer placed the ring upon Elayne’s finger, and she immediately felt warmer. As if the cold of the air did not affect her. When she pulled it back off, her nipples immediately pebbled and goose bumps rose on her arms. “See? We are prepared for living in tough regions. Fashion sense also comes with a sense of survival, much like these Nords.” The Altmer was running more fabric across her body, this time in soft greens and yellows. “Unfortunately with that hair the colors that suit you are Thalmor or Dunmeri. But first, your promise?”

Elayne was still swimming through her mind, trying to decide what to do. If she agreed, and then somehow got noticed in another city this nosy Altmer would hear about it. And she knew about the pile of moonstone and quicksilver that probably awaited her. The only other people that might know were Rulindil and Ondolemar, but the risk there came from them simply taking advantage of her. Endarie and Taarie were probably the only Altmer outside of the Thalmor that she knew and talked to. It also seemed to be a place where the aspects of the other world were bleeding over. 

“I will agree, but only if you make over Eola as well. She’s part of the nobility of the Reach, and that maid dress I have is hers, not mine.”

Endarie’s eyes twinkled. Barter was something she appreciated. “I can always simply add it to your tab with us.”

“You get the Dragonborn wearing your designs for her career!” Elayne felt more in her element, gems swinging nearly freely as she changed position and pouted. “Eola will get a makeover. On the house.”

Endarie took a minute to converse with Taarie and Yodie. The three of them were in hot debate for a while. Endarie broke off to ask Eola a few questions in the other room, but Elayne couldn’t see what was going on there. When the Altmer returned, she stepped before Elayne and seemed to give an impetuous grin. “We have decided to agree. Your makeover shall be the one you pay for. Eola shall receive our just attention, though we just discovered your especial collar around her neck. Not that you’ll be free of that yourself if you keep getting gifts.”

“Which you will explain?”

“We have prepared a contract in writing.” Yodie stepped forwards, holding a piece of parchment. The ink was still drying, the fine script in common tongue. “You have any questions about anything we know about, we will answer them at no fee. And if you ever get enough money saved up to remove the entire set of moonstone and the blood from the maker of the set, we shall help in its removal.”

Well. That was very nice! Elayne read through the contract, which stipulated rather simply that she would wear Radiant Raiment and only such clothing unless coerced, jailed or in some other way inconvenienced to the point she could not wear such. In exchange, if she ever saved up. Her brain snapped at the number she saw. “Twenty five thousand imperial dragons?!” 

“That’s what it will take for us to break the magic containing you.” Endarie said smoothly. “We will be breaking a lot of equipment that can only be made in the Aldmeri Dominion. Which we only can buy in person, which means losing most of a year’s income to you if you decide to do it. We sacrifice very much to help you.” Endarie explained. “So you must pay for the year one of us will inevitably be gone replacing the broken materials.”

That actually seemed fair. To her Breton mind, that seemed entirely fair. But it was still an astronomical amount of gold. Even adventuring and fighting as hard as she had, Elayne had only managed to get two thousand gold together at a time. This was multiples higher than that. In fact, “I could pay for Proudspire Manor with that!”

“But you could never afford the same price again to furnish it, darling.” Endarie chuckled. Well, she was right on that account. “Sign your name at the bottom to agree, and while Yodie makes you a copy,” The elf stared balefully as her niece ran for the back room. “We shall go over and explain to you the fate you might face.”

The rest of the contract simply stipulated that the Threadmaker’s Guild of Amaranth, of which Endarie was a member, promised to support and never lie, cheat, scam or manipulate Elayne in any way. That if Elayne had a reasonable request that Endarie or any other member of the guild would supply it. That if Elayne ever became collared they would promise to treat her as a regular person, and not a slave girl. As well that if Elayne was in Solitude that she could use their home and enjoy their food and hospitality. Odd, that caveat about a collar being in the contract. 

Elayne signed both copies, and Endarie pulled her own chair forward as Eola screeched in the back room. Something about indignity. But she wasn’t listening. “These sets of moonstone and quicksilver were originally designed to control a queen from the shadows. Concealed under her clothing, the queen wore bands across ankles, thighs, wrists and biceps. A collar was upon her throat. A moonstone headband that made her hair perfect every day. But also let her captors find her at any time.” Elayne could always feel the weight of the headdress upon her brow. She had gotten used to it, now. But it didn’t sit well that someone could track it. 

“Why did the queen accept it?”

“She was forced to by a suitor. She of course refused him the morning after, but he simply waited a decade. By that time it was an open secret that she couldn’t make decisions without him. They were unhappily married and nearly started a civil war over it. As you have seen, these bands across your legs are meant to be difficult to remove. The entire set bonds to your skin. The ankle bands are slowly damaging your feet, making you move slower. Over a decade you will be exhausted by a long stroll, rather than your heroics that you regularly enjoy.” Endarie said, not skipping any of the theatrics. “But it takes years to see that kind of damage. The thigh bands are far less intrusive. They simply can be used to attach you to anything, and if your owner decides he can bind them to a location. The queen was bound to her palace unless she got especial permission to leave it. These stopped her from leaving.” She tapped the thigh bands. 

“So, do you know the magic words to turn that off?” 

“I do not. I simply know Aldmeris and can guess their function based on the lines of writing.” The Altmer waved her hands. “Still, you should know about the other pieces. Your piercings are charging the entire set. They also draw from your pool of magicka. You might have noticed you have less?” Elanye nodded, as the woman continued. “It’s not much now, but the entire set will keep you from casting much more than a Candlelight. The bands that may yet go upon your arms come in two varieties. Bracelets and bicep bands. The Bracelets are going to shock you if you wield any weapon your master deems as not belonging to you. That can include eating tools, as well. So be careful on those. The bicep bands will be less intrusive as well. Those were designed to curse your ability to handle gold. If you get those, feel free to panic. Touching gold will shock you. Gems and jewelry, of course would be left alone.”

Elayne nodded. “Which just leaves a collar.” She said at last.

“Indeed. The queen was a figurehead because of it. She had to accept commands from the owner of the collar. Thankfully only spoken. But the Queen did escape from her captor.” Endarie said hopefully. “She found a way to change the collar to a new owner. So she made her choice. The pretender controlling her was replaced by her own son, who promptly did the very same thing, just in preparation for his own rule. Once he had the setup he desired, he freed his mother.”

“That’s terrible!”

“Welcome to the world of Altmer political activity. But that’s part of the reason I know about these. My great grandmother was one of the people who helped invent a way to remove them. My family has fallen in and out of popularity with the ruling class as a result of our association. Which is why we moved to Skyrim. Safe enough, and wealthy in its own way.” The Altmer waved her hands, freeing Elayne from the chair as she spoke a word of magic and tapped the moonstone bands.

Of course, that was only because she had piles of clothes to try on. Now that she had signed a contract, the real debate would begin. Elayne had to put her foot down on so many things, such as frills. Frills were godsawful things that never looked good on her. She barely saw Eola over the next three hours, as Yodie spent her time in back with Eola for the first two hours, switching places with Taarie as she tried to control the hair situation. But she didn’t know how to set the headband, and Endarie wouldn’t do that at all. Apparently it was dangerous to tamper with if they weren’t going to remove it. “Too close to the brain, darling.” 

The sun had nearly set when Elayne finally was able to leave Radiant Raiment. They had taken nearly the rest of her money. She and Eola had enough to get back to Whiterun and the rest of her savings, but only just. Elayne felt on display. Completely. She was wearing a strapless dress with a tight corset on the outside. The skirts were a split style, providing no hope of covering up any of her legs. In fact, she had to wear smalls that rode up higher on the hips just to wear any with this dress, the slits were so high. Her bag was heavy, filled to the brim with outfits matching this one, or worse. A full three outfits were something Endarie referred to as ‘party’ attire. She wouldn’t be able to wear those anywhere with a stiff breeze.

Eola was fuming. She hadn’t been able to help herself, whispering ideas to Endarie and Taarie. She was wearing her own dress and corset, though hers was a halter style. Her hair was enchanted. Not just styled but enchanted to stay in a certain way. It hung in a thick curly vine over her bad eye in front, running down to the top of her breasts. In back it looked like a well coiffed masterpiece, flared and reaching her mid back in layered waves. Probably what had Eola fuming most was the miniskirt. All of her outfits included them. Yodie had grown her hair out and given her ear piercings. Through magic, somehow. Both of them had heeled boots with blatant symbols of Radiant Raiment upon them. 

The guards took thirty gold for public indecency within two minutes, sending both women running to the inn for cover. Even though Eola wouldn’t talk to her that night, Elayne felt as though she had a much better idea of what may yet come. Knowledge was half the battle, of course. She had a daedric weapon. She could technically fight Alduin, now! 

But in order to do that, she would need that elder scroll back. Harkon the vampire had that, and the only person who knew about him refused to tell her anything. Sleeping naked that night, Elayne tried to shake the feeling that something was wrong about all of this. But she didn’t feel into that. Instead she tried to trust that someone would know about Harkon. Where he lived, what his strengths were. Somewhere out there the answer lurked. Glancing at her bag, she knew that  _ Captured Dreams _ would at least answer some questions. But that carried its own risks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elayne:  
> Moonstone Anklets  
> Moonstone Thigh Bands  
> Navel Piercing  
> Nipple Piercings  
> Moonstone Headband
> 
> Eola:  
> Ebonite Collar  
> Ebonite Bracelets
> 
> Gabriella:  
> Daedric Ring


	21. Chapter 21: Family and Friends

The road back into Falkreath was one filled with Forsworn. All of whom saw her from a distance and gave waves of greeting from their ambush points. A few dead Stormcloaks stood example to their effectiveness. Some were missing their hearts, which meant that one of the tribes was going to be making a Briarheart from someone. Human hearts were needed to make that, as far as Elayne knew. But in matching elven armor, she and Eola looked quite memorable. As they passed Fort Sungard, the Forsworn within shared fresh fruits and berries with them, in exchange for some bone meal and mountain flowers. 

They didn’t even go into Falkreath proper, again stopping at the clearing to camp. “Alright Eola.” She stated. “I have to go meet with someone. They don’t want to meet with anyone else. So stay here, do what you want. I’ll be back before sundown.”

Eola wasn’t happy about it, but Elayne wasn’t entering the sanctuary of the dark brotherhood with anything less than her armor on. Even though she had promised Taarie and Endarie to wear their clothing, she wanted to put on the right mood when she returned. As she moved through the trees, she found a large wagon that had been abandoned here. It looked battered from long travel. But once past it, she was uninterrupted in entering the sanctuary. She had barely shut the door before Astrid appeared, giving her a hug. It was completely unexpected! “Ah! Hello?”

“You are the best sister this family could ask for.” Astrid whispered in her ear. “I saw the size of that wound on Gabriella. And the torture marks. You saved her. Even if you both missed the target, you did something that matters more.” She looked happy. “That’s what family means to you, and I can’t call you Initiate after that. Sithis forgive me for saying so, but you are a good person. You deserve to be a Hero with your tendencies.”

“But I kill people.”

“Heroes kill people a lot, don’t you think? Talos became a god on a mountain of dead enemies. Being part of the Dark Brotherhood doesn’t make you a villain or evil person, but not taking care of your friends makes you forgotten by all but the worst of daedric princes. The Dark Brotherhood isn’t just made up of killers. Long ago we used to be a group of people with different motives. Ways of influencing the world. Once we had a member that was High Chancellor of the empire in Cyrodil. Sometimes, it pays to have friends that have credibility elsewhere. Or family that protects you from prying eyes.”

“I didn’t want Gabriella to die.”

“I shouldn’t have trusted the full job to you two. But you somehow got out without suspicions. I am grateful. More than that, I think I owe you an apology for the way I’ve treated you. Hazing is probably a good way of putting it. But I need to talk to you about our newest family member.” She said seriously. “Come into my room, and we can discuss.” Astrid’s skirt was even shorter than she remembered! Bare thighs were winking at her every time the Nord walked. Then again, her own thigh bands were on display, so she had no room to talk. 

“New family member?”

“More like very old family member. The Night Mother herself. And her caretaker, a man named Cicero.” The Night Mother was a powerful creature of Sithis. She was connected directly to the deity-like force. Instead of being fearful, Elayne felt thrilled. “We are happy to have them here, but it means that the sanctuary in Cheydinhal has fallen. The only other chapter of the Dark Brotherhood is gone, as far as I know. Veezara is probably the last shadowscale alive, and the Hist will never give up its children to Sithis easily. Not without a lot of work on our part. The Morag Tong are stronger than we are. And apparently have members in Skyrim, judging by the woman that protects Jarl Balgruuf.” 

“She said she was raised by one.” 

“That woman was raised in Windhelm.” Astrid pointed out, tucking a heeled boot behind her sculpted legs and leaning against the table. “There will be more. But it still means we are the last. I had hoped that the other provinces might still hold sanctuaries, but it seems we are no longer able to lie to ourselves. Our way of life is dying. Something happened around the time of the Oblivion crisis and we lost our way. Be wary of Cicero. He’s lost his family twice now. There are some things that you just can’t recover from.”

“Is he dangerous?”

“He’s a full family member and entrusted to protect the Night Mother. I would put him on the same level as Nazir.” Astrid considered fairly. “So, that brings me to the contract. I’ve decided not to honor the rest of it. The Jarl is too well protected and we can’t make this mistake again.” She sighed in relief. “Welcome home, sister. I don’t have any new contracts for you, but keep an eye on Cicero. Tell me anything out of the ordinary that he might do.”

“Thank you Astrid.” Elayne answered honestly. “I might have to hire us for a contract here soon at the rate I’m making enemies.”

“Hah!” Astrid found that funny, laughing deeply. “And just what kind of enemies are you making, that your family can help you with?”

“Ancient vampiric lords that I don’t know how to kill or where to find them.”

“Yet.” Astrid held up a finger. “Go have a chat with Babette. She knows quite a bit about vampires here in Skyrim. Even if she was turned in Cyrodil. We know Movarth quite well, but he and his band of vampires are trying to remain out of conflicts.They are one of the few covens of vampires you can speak to peacefully. Just approach their cavern with some mudcrab legs in your hand. It’s a little signal we have to talk with them.”

“Are there others?”

“Of course. But we aren’t in a working relationship.” Astrid tapped a couple of places on the map. “These are places I know about. But they are old places. There is an ancient fort in the mountains here that is called Bloodlet. Won’t find it on many maps.” Her knife tapped it, and Elayne brought out her own map to mark hers. “And then there is Redwater. Odd place, but Festus said it was inhabited by vampires once.” She also showed her the cave belonging to Movarth, north of Morthal. “Anything else I can help you with?”

“I’m looking for a missing woman named Serana?” She smirked. 

“How long has she been missing and where was she last seen?”

“Not a clue to both.”

“It’s not a name I recognize. Sorry.” Astrid shrugged. “But it would make you happy to hear that the Vigilants of Stendarr have been pulling back from the roads recently. Something’s got them spooked. I think they even abandoned their hall.” The Vigilants of Stendarr weren’t bad people. They just hated anything from Oblivion. “Wish we could be more help.”

She moved out of Astrid’s room, heels clicking as she moved through the sanctuary. Festus and Veezara were in the main chamber, using the dragonwall to practice a game of darts. “The one with the tooth mark, next!”

“That’s all of the symbols, Festus!”

“You must be uncivilized, my brother! Look, the one just above the last one you struck. It looks like a claw.”

“So it does. So it does.” Veezara mused.

“That one means ‘Honor’, by the way.” She told them, smirking. “Don’t miss!”

Both men cackled, waving as she stepped past them. Her steps brought her past Arnbjorn and Nazir, both working on sharpening weapons and not talking. She didn’t want to touch that. Gabriella she wasn’t seeing in the bedrooms, but eventually found her and Babette throwing chunks of raw meat down to Babette’s spider. “Gabriella!” 

“Elayne!” The Dunmer hugged her, looking healthier than when she saw her last. “Are you alright?”

“Of course.” The lie that worked on the rest of skyrim rolled off her tongue. “Well, I’m in need of help.”

“Alchemical training? Archery touches? Neither of those are your specialty.” Babette mocked gently. “What can we do for our sister?”

“Tell me about Harkon and the Volkihar.” Gabriella’s eyebrows rose, and she looked slightly disturbed. 

Babette frowned, a deadly serious look on the face of the child. “You already know his name. That’s more than most people care to learn.” She pushed a copy of Immortal Blood towards Elayne, on the table. “The Volkihar can move through ice. Freeze the blood in your veins. They have something even more powerful than that, something that even other vampire clans wish they had. A connection to Molag Bal that is closer than any other. The Volkihar barely care about other vampire groups because they have that connection. They expect anyone that wants to be in skyrim to beg for their approval. Lone vampires are hunted down by them for disturbing the peace.” Babette considered her words carefully. “I’ve never been to their island, or their court.”

“They have an island?!” An Island! They had to be in the Sea of Ghosts! But if they could move through ice, they might be living in a glacier for all she could get through that. “Tell me more, please. It’s important.” Babette looked worried, glancing at Gabriella. “They stole the elder scroll I need to kill Alduin. Without it, I won’t be able to do something important.”

Babette skewed her face, concerned. “I know where it is. But I also know that you would need an army to go there. It’s not just an island. It’s a fortress and it’s surrounded by the creatures of Molag Bal, daedra of Molag Bal, and then the vampires themselves. Harkon is the name of the lord of their court. I have never heard of him leaving that fortress. I only heard his name once, from an emissary they sent to some vampires I was visiting. Among vampires, he’s some kind of royalty. If there is any books or history about him, they’re long burnt and gone. Any mention of his name and you’ll be sure to draw attention to yourself.” She warned. “I know where the island is, but I will warn you not to go there.”

“You’re telling me more than I knew before.”

“You’re a hero, Elayne. This place? I wouldn’t attack it unless I had the highest temperatures of summer and clear skies. The only people dumb enough to think they could fight them was Potema the wolf queen herself. Weakened her enough that she lost her power when her attacks failed.” Babette was being serious. “If he stole your Elder Scroll? Maybe you should just find another one. It’ll be faster than waiting for those immortals to give it back to you.”

“He has two.” Elayne groaned. “Maybe I should just hire a thief.”

Babette and Gabriella looked at her. “If you think the Thieve’s Guild has a chance of stealing from a vampiric fortress, be my guest.” Gabriella said. “We know people at the Thieves Guild. If you had thousands of gold to throw at them, maybe they’d try.”

Elayne groaned. Again, it all came down to money. “Where could I go that I could make thousands of gold very quickly.” 

“A whorehouse.” Babette mocked. 

“Babette!” Gabriella giggled. “You can’t say that! No whorehouse in Skyrim would pay that much.”

Elayne rolled her eyes. “I still need to get that scroll back.”

“Then maybe you should go somewhere and tell the Empire to just send you a scroll? They’ve got to honor their hero, after all.”

“I just might. I really just might.” She sighed. “I know more than I did before, and I thank you for that Babette. I promise I won’t be going there alone.”

“Can I talk to you for a second?” Gabriella mentioned. “Come on, I’ve got to show you something.” The Dunmer took her to the room with the stained glass window, a large coffin filling the space. That was new, and her earrings banged together loudly when she saw it. “This is the Night Mother’s coffin.”

“It’s a bit creepy.” Elayne offered with a smile. 

Gabriella shut the doors to the room, before grasping Elayne by the arm and whispering. “She’s talking to me! What in Oblivion should I do?!”

“What does the dead woman say?” 

“That we are supposed to go meet with a man in a nordic ruin about a job. An Amaund Motierre. He thinks we haven’t heard his sacrament and will leave soon.” 

It was then that both women realized they were not alone. From behind the coffin, a man slipped from the shadows, a jester’s hat upon his head. “Heresy, to speak of the Night Mother’s words. To speak as if she has spoken!” Quick as lightning, blades were in his hands. 

“Darkness rises when silence dies!” Gabriella squeaked. “Please don’t hurt anyone, Cicero!”

The man slipped his daggers back into his outfit, somewhere. Elayne couldn’t tell. He seemed to quiver, holding his sides. Unable to help himself, he threw open the doors, and started yelling as loud as the world outside could hear. “The Night Mother is heard! Gabriella is a Listener! The Dark Brotherhood is no longer silent! Oh hee hah hah! Mother speaks! Mother can speak again!”

The entire sanctuary was coming now, and Gabriella was blushing a bright pink in her cheeks. “Oh shit.”

Elayne was just happy that it was someone else’s problem, this time. She patted her friend on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, you get used to it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elayne:  
> Moonstone Anklets  
> Moonstone Thigh Bands  
> Navel Piercing  
> Nipple Piercings  
> Moonstone Headband
> 
> Eola:  
> Ebonite Collar  
> Ebonite Bracelets
> 
> Gabriella:  
> Daedric Ring


	22. Chapter 22: The Summons

Elayne was tired of hearing how she couldn’t actually fight Harkon. That he was invincible or unkillable. Heroes, she decided, did not have to listen to absolutes. After watching Gabriella giving Astrid a heart attack, Elayne decided to let her dark brotherhood family sort themselves out. She had heroics to perform, or so she told them. In reality she just really felt like her plate was full at that point. So she went and started a cascade of events, loudly leaving a trail of news of what the Dragonborn wanted. Every bard from Riften to Solitude would be shouting about it. At least, that was the intention.

Which is what brought her to the new Hall of the Vigilant. It was some ruin east of Riften, and even with the rain Elayne’s spirits were high. She had finally found out what happened to the Vigilants, and Isran. East of Riften, almost along the road to Vvardenfell there was a small slot canyon entrance. It looked partially collapsed, something that used to be able to allow easy transportation of goods. But someone had set a shrine of Stendarr along the road here, and it looked well cared for. There were flowers and other offerings near it. 

Ducking through the tunnel, it looked like some people had been digging it out. But past the thin path, it opened into a wide valley. It looked like a hidden gem, overgrown with trees and bushes. A hard packed road with cobble had been cleared, and her heels had plenty of purchase on it. The rain seemed to be worse in the valley, dumping so heavily that it was getting through her cloak. At the head of the fortress, two vigilants seemed to be shivering in what little cover they could get, but challenged her. 

“Who g-goes there?” One chattered his teeth. 

“It’s the Dragonborn.” The other said with excitement. “Welcome to the new Hall of the Vigilant!” 

“It looks a little out of sorts.” Most of the walls were still covered in vegetation. “Is the Keeper home?”

“She is!” They grinned. “If it weren’t for this damnable rain, she might be outside with us.”

Elayne shivered, feeling a bit cold herself. “I think I can do something about that.” She stepped out of the thin cover and stared up at the sky. “Lok! Vah! Koor!” She yelled the dragon shout, as the thick rainclouds were driven off. It wouldn’t last forever. Kyne controlled the skies, and that was not a force anyone could reckon with. But it did get the attention of the Vigilants inside the keep. Isran, Carcette, and some of the other vigilants came out to see her. Letting her sodden cloak fall back from her face Elayne stepped into the light. 

“Keeper Carcette. Isran.” She give a bow of the head. “I’ve come with important news. I’m going to be destroying a champion of Molag Bal and the source of vampire attacks across Skyrim. They took something that is needed to stop Alduin from destroying us all. I’m inviting those that know how to fight daedra and vile creatures best to come and speak. It’s part of a larger conversation that needs to happen regarding the dragons, but I need your support if I am to bring down the Volkihar.”

“We were just driven from our Hall by them. What makes you believe that we will be capable of helping?” Keeper Carcette said critically. “We have no army.”

“Don’t worry.” Elayne grinned. “I already have one.” Isran seemed to blink at that. “You just might have to accept that they are a bit different.”

“How so, Dragonborn?” Isran couldn’t help himself. “Is this something that will just fill in the hole left by the Volkihar if they fall?”

“Uh, no. I meant that I convinced the Forsworn to stop fighting everyone and fight for me instead if I fulfill certain agreements. So I have an army.” She grinned, her mask hiding her smugness. “So what we need are experts in hunting vampires and killing daedra.”

Keeper Carcette just started laughing, long and loud. “Dragonborn? Elayne? I don’t care what you wish to be called. Consider this my RSVP.” The older woman clasped her arm, bringing Elayne in for a hug. But her whisper could cut glass. “The Gods know you do not walk with them. Don’t assume you may tread over them if you try anything.” While the rest of the Vigilants were happy and cheerful Keeper Carcette maintained her stern expression as she stepped back. “Where will this speechcraft occur?”

“High Hrothgar.” This made many of the Vigilants consider things fairly. It was a temple to Kynareth, after all. “You may send two representatives. The Companions will be guarding anyone scaling the mountain, as I have invited the Thalmor.”

“You invited them? Why?” Isran seemed highly suspect.

“Because if I didn’t, they would show up anyways. They’ve got conjurers and powerful enchanted weapons.” Elayne pointed out. “But after this I have a much harder task. You all I deeply respect for your work and your faith. But now I must head north. I have to invite Ulfrik Stormcloak to this.”

“My condolences.” Keeper Carcette offered. “I find that he respects those that pray first in the temple of Talos before going to visit his palace. Make an offering of hawk feathers and snowberries. It will help.”

“Thank you.” She said fervently. 

“Where is your usual companion?” Isran asked. “You never travel alone.”

“Oh, I had her deliver the letter to the Forsworn and the Thalmor for me.” Eola was going to be a festering bitch of complaints after this. But they needed to split up and cover more ground. Elayne used a courier to send a message to Esbern and Delphine. They needed to know her plan to fight the dragons. She had the hardest tasks before herself. The Stormcloaks and the College of Winterhold. Then she and Eola would meet back up in Solitude. With a few goodbyes, she left the valley and the Vigilants behind. Her heels started to carry her north, every step verifying that this was the right idea.

The Palace of Windhelm was a very cold pile of stones. Elayne was thankful for her ring, as she wore her armor towards the palace. Stormcloaks were everywhere, and two followed her once she entered the gates. They saw her offer a blessing at the temple of Talos, and Elayne finally felt as though one of the divines actually responded. She felt as though her throat was feeling better, and she was less cold. The priest seemed ecstatic, a man named Lortheim. 

It made the guards far more relaxed as they approached the palace. Unlike in other holds, it felt as though no one was here. No one was waiting to speak to their Jarl. No tradesman were waiting for help or approvals. It seemed off. Her heels clicked on the stone, and the doors were opened by two strong nords to let her in. A long table suitable for a king’s court filled the space, with the Jarl himself sitting upon a throne at the head of it all. He was waiting for her. With no hurry, she walked the left side of the table. Bretons always liked to approach someone from their right side, as the left was more insulting. Anything done with the left hand of a lord was considered far less important than their right. 

“Long have I awaited your visit, Dragonborn.” Stormcloak spoke. “Or would you rather be called Elayne of Wayrest?”

“In these circumstances, Dragonborn is acceptable. If you accept, I will be happy to allow you the hospitality of my name.” She came to a stop in front of his throne. 

“In curiosity, I want to try something new.” Stormcloak got off of his throne. “I fought a dragon with my troops recently. When I tried to shout at it, it seemed to believe that I was finally talking to it. Though it called me weak.” The man narrowed his eyes. “I wish to exchange words with you, as the dragons do.”

“You, uh, want to take a shout?” 

“Yes, Dragonborn. I want to see if you are truly as powerful as you say.” This, from the man who was said to have killed Torygg with his own voice. “As host, I will go first.” He lined up, moving so that now nothing was behind the other but smooth stone wall. Elayne gave him a nod, before he let loose a powerful shout. But she was ready. This was natural to her, as she felt the words wash over her. Bracing her knees, the sconces behind her were blown over and the plates from the table nearby were disturbed. As for Elayne herself, her heels scraped as she slid a few inches. A man in a bear-cloak seemed to just stare, as Elayne felt the rush of her own shout rising in her throat. She could have held back, but didn’t feel like it would be fair to him. 

Ulfrik tried to brace. He really did. But Elayne sent him ass over teakettle into the wall behind him, the sconces along it also being moved even further. The man stood, groaning. But Ulfrik was laughing. “I haven’t been thrown like that since Arngeir and I scaled the summit together! Hah!” He rubbed his back, stretching. “I don’t doubt your voice, Dragonborn. I am no competition in that regard.” He came back to his throne, sitting in it heavily. “You bring something before the true king of skyrim. Speak your mind.”

“I am here to call a summit. The Volkihar clan of vampires have taken an elder scroll from me. In doing so, they have willingly sided with Alduin and are intent on letting him end the world. I have need of all of the major powers in Skyrim to help me in retrieving it as the first part of my summit. The second part will be to come to an agreement about ending the fighting so that soldiers can be defensively protecting cities and roads. A ceasefire, if you will. This winter will be hard enough on the people of Skyrim if the Dragons do what they did during the last dragon war.”

“We have been fair minded and keeping them away from holds that are protected by my soldiers.” Stormcloak dared to claim. 

“During the Dragon War, the dragons decided to act cruelly. They burned every field of those that stood against them, cut down stragglers and hunted groups of people that tried to bring food back to the homes of their families. When, not if the dragons feel they have the strength to war against us mortals again they will. And every single Draugr of their dragon cult lies buried under your feet. I think Alduin is waking them, along with the dragons. Nordic ruins have been less and less safe to explore since he came back. I won’t rule out having to fight your own honored dead as they rise from the ground, and then keeping your eyes above to hunt dragons. Also, during the dragon war the Way of the Voice wasn’t yet conceived. Nords could learn to shout and did use it against the Dragons. I sincerely doubt that Arngeir would come off the mountain to fight for you or any other hold.”

Stormcloak frowned. “No, no he would not. But you are willing to fight them.”

“I am one woman and I belong to more than one hold.”

“Balgruuf would say differently. You’ve killed three or four dragons within his hold, by my spies count.” The Nord was short by one, but no one had been along shriekwind bastion in a long time to see that skeleton. “My hold has only had your blessing once.”

“Twice.” She corrected. “But I doubt you have people along the eastern mountains by dwarven ruins.”

Stormcloak seemed to consider that. “I’ll send a patrol to go looking. Now, about this summit. Who else have you invited?”

“I’ll be inviting the Empire. But I can hardly expect them to give my summit any kind of respect unless I invited you first.” That much was true. A man that declares himself king by killing the previous couldn’t be slighted. A merchant always knew who the biggest fish in the pond were. Stormcloak was one of the biggest. Perhaps not the most powerful, but one of the loudest voices. “The Vigilants of Stendarr are coming, the Reachmen are coming,”

“You would trust those bastards?” Ulfrik looked shocked. 

“My mother was born in Markarth.” Elayne said softly. “My family home of twenty generations currently lies occupied by Thonar Silver-Blood.” 

Ulfrik frowned. He could see that he was in prickly territory there. “My men and I were coming to the aid of a deposed Jarl. I believed my oaths to him were more important than what came after.” His entire revolution occurred because of the Forsworn rebellion. “I do not wish to imply that I take pride in your family’s suffering.”

“All of Skyrim is suffering. I simply found a reason for the Reachmen to find peace. If you could have done things differently, what would you have changed about Markarth?” Elayne asked, poking at the point of vulnerability. “Speaking only of yourself.”

The man took his time to answer, giving her inscrutable looks. “I would not have changed any of my actions. I demanded that Talos be worshipped openly. I stood by my beliefs.”

“But Torygg wasn’t the only person you’ve killed by the use of the unrelenting force shout. You also killed Madanach’s wife with it.”

He looked shocked to hear her say that. “That room was empty.” He whispered. “The room was empty.”

“There was a false wall.” Elayne spoke softly back. “Four people were inside the back room. My aunt was one of them, members of the court.” She made eye contact, seeing that Ulfrik had no fear of staring her in the eye. Even when being confronted with that. “Do you regret killing an unarmed woman with the Voice?”

“You are not hearing the full story.” Ulfrik spoke clearly. “That woman was using a mace. It felt like one brush with it was enough to steal my very will to fight. I didn’t want to kill her. But I was given no choice. That weapon was dark, and I wasn’t sure of my ability to keep fighting after everything else.” His eyes did not waver. “Yes, I killed her with the voice.”

“Would you be willing to speak on the behalf of those people, when they seek peace with you and the Empire?”

Ulfrik actually looked away at that. “That would weaken the Empire to lose Markarth.”

“They don’t want to contest Markarth.” She insisted. “But they aren’t going to be confident of their chances of negotiating a peace in the Reach without your support.” 

“I can’t speak of their intentions. Nor of their leadership that I could trust. Witches and hagravens make poor leaders of civilized people.”

“But it’s your actions that created the entire split. If you didn’t have a rebellion going, I think Markarth would be ignited into conflict again.” Elayne kept prodding, feeling empowered by all of this. Perhaps this was the only time someone would challenge him. “Perhaps you might want to create something by your hand rather than just leave destruction in your wake.”

“You presume too much.”

“I am going to save the world from Alduin. Will. There is no if.  _ If _ you want to become king of this province you have to accept that there are some things that are stronger with a quill and ink rather than a sword. I am creating this summit to ask for peace until Alduin is dead. I am not demanding you stop your war. I refuse to take a side upon it. But I will if you won’t pull your head out of your ass and get behind me when I want to give you a Sovngard to return back to when you grow old and die.” Elayne’s words echoed in the throne room. 

“But you need me at this summit if you will see any kind of result that leads to your victory.” Stormcloak countered, acceding her point. “You need more than that, to get back your elder scroll as well. So what will you promise to bring me there?”

“What, are you in need of reasons to be dragged to the table like some ungrateful child!” She yelled at him. Something about his casual mockery of her words pissed her off. “I’m inviting you as the most important member of a peace summit! I’m not bribing you. I’m telling you as the Dragonborn that you will bring yourself to High Hrothgar and prepare to talk. If you come expecting to be lured in like some weak Imperial child, you’ll be disappointed. I’m actually visiting you. The Thalmor are getting a letter. The Companions will be fighting at my side. And yours, if you decide to help.”

Ulfrik had his lips set. The man in the bear cloak behind him looked like he was trying not to laugh as he watched his liege lord be lectured to like a child. “Maybe I’ll refuse. It sounds like you are inviting all of my enemies.”

“I’ve also invited the unmarried queen of the Reach.” Ulfrik blinked at that. Eola not being here helped her a lot to make this claim. The woman would have screeched like a cat to be used as a catspaw like this. “She has the full support of all of their clans and is the only surviving child of Madanach. She hates him, if you’re curious. So you share that interest.”

“I’ve never heard of this queen.”

“Why would you have? The Forsworn have no interest in being targeted by the Dark Brotherhood over it.” She pointed out freely. “The point I’m making is that this will be a council of mages, worshippers of Stendarr, men of war. Queen Potema tried to defeat what I must and she failed. I don’t want the world to end. In the light of that threat, is a summit that much of a danger to you?”

“I haven’t campaigned outside of my own lands since Helgen.” Ulfrik spoke clearly. “We both were there. Heard that creature speak.” He swept his eyes over the room. “I’ll be at your summit. Make sure I sit next to the Reachfolk. As far from the Thalmor as possible. I am likely to kill them if they so much as imply the word Talos.” He offered his hand to her. “Will you personally guarantee my safety?”

Elayne nodded. “We both were at Helgen.” She quoted him. “Only you and one other are allowed on the Throat of the world. Members of the Companions will escort you on the ascent. When you come, bring anything you have about the Volkihar vampires and their leader, Harkon. He has an island fortress somewhere in the Sea of Ghosts.”

“You’ll have it.” Ulfrik said clearly. “Galmar? If there is to be a ceasefire we had best take what territory we can. So sayeth the King of Skyrim!” 

“I have a very small favor to ask.” Elayne said, once they had shaken hands. This made Ulfrik guffaw, his laugh echoing across the chamber.

“Now that you have my word, you ask for more?” He laughed once more. “A true hero indeed. What can I do for you?”

“I was kicked out of the College of Winterhold. Could you perhaps invite them to come to the Summit? I have a letter for them.”

“What in the name of the Aedra did you do to get kicked out?” Ulfrik was at least entertained more than horrified. 

“I may have tried to open a portal to Oblivion using blood from all of the different mer races.” Elayne didn’t hide what she was doing. “I was using a daedric artifact to try to understand a prophecy about Alduin. The portal opened, and took most of my bedroom with it.” 

“I can see why they might think you needed a sabbatical.”

“They don’t like summoning of unbound Daedra or loose portals to Oblivion. Or the three clannfear that went rampaging through the entire hall of initiates. Broke three major rules and wasn’t apologetic about it.” She left out the part about waving the Oghma Infinium in front of Mirabelle Evain and getting expelled at the ungodly hours of the morning.

“What are Clannfear?” Ulfrik asked. “I am not well versed in Daedra.”

“Clawed reptilian daedra. Claws, biting, and extremely low intelligence. But they are large and have large bone and scale crests that come off their heads like this,” She held her hands on either side of her head, trying to replicate the shape of the odd heads. “They injured every other initiate and two of the professors before they were unsummoned.”

“I’ll try to convince them to come to the Summit.” Ulfrik nodded. “Jarl Korir is a good friend of mine. I’ll get it done.”

“Thank you.” She smiled. “If I were to head west, and try to reach General Tulius where would be the safest route? I have to keep to my schedule.”

“Galmar? Get a squad of our best and spare horses. The Dragonborn will reach Imperial lands unscathed. Have a courier summoned to go to Winterhold immediately.” He gave his eye contact back to Elayne. “Could you perhaps visit the dragon we killed outside the city a couple days past? Make sure it stays dead?”

“Well, I guess I specialize in that.” 

Castle Dour was reached within three days. Three miserable days. Her nudist curse didn’t seem to have been cured by her visit to the temple of Talos. She had been earnestly hoping it would be cured by that. To her undying shame, she had slept through her self-stripping and all of the Stormcloak soldiers saw her naked glory. And then the Imperials that guarded her in turn saw the same again! It didn’t help that none of her legs were covered by any single outfit she owned. Elayne just thanked the daedric princes and the aedra that she hadn’t woken up naked with any of them. Soldiers were not exactly the trustworthy sort. By the time she had gotten inside the Winking Skeever, she was certain her piercings would be the talk of the entire Castle. Gods, she looked miserable when she slumped next to Eola at a table. 

“What died in your hair?” She spat. “Also, hi. Nice to see you too. Long time no see.”

“I’ve been under guard by patrols of soldiers on both sides of the civil war to get here safely.” She murmured quietly. “We slept in the open!”

Eola blinked, before grinning wolfishly. “Oh! Ooh, soldiers like to talk!” She patted her hand. “It’s alright. You can just wear one of your dresses to Castle Dour.”

“Gods, no. I’m meeting him in my armor.”

“That armor is covered in troll fat, horse smell and sweat. Have you worn anything else?”

She really hadn’t, since she was in Solitude last. “No.” She squeaked. 

“We are carrying like fifty points of clothing to wear and you are not using it? When that could be loot instead?” Eola scoffed. “Go put on something nice. I’ll help with your hair. We’ve got to meet Tulius before he goes to inspect one of the forward camps.”

“When will that be?”

“Any day now.” Eola shrugged. “Soldiers gossip. That’s all I know.” She made a shooing motion. “I got us a room upstairs. First on the right. Go up there and I’ll bring you food and mead.” Eola insisted. “And thanks for asking about how my deliveries went. So glad you care!” She snarked, standing up and moving to the bar.

That was how she showed up to Castle Dour wearing a strapless red dress. It barely covered her thighs, leaving all of her legs on display. Short red colored heels were on her feet, leaving her ankle and thigh bands on full display. Her smallclothes had all been replaced by diaphanous silk and satin, meant to ride high on the hips and disappear between her asscheeks. Instead of concealing her gems, the breastbands were designed to let them hang out while the rest of her was supported. Her nipples wouldn’t be making an appearance through the dress, but it was tight enough that the gems might be implied. A small white corset wrap went over the dress and made the appearance of her breasts larger. All in all, she looked amazingly like a whore. Thankfully she was wearing her mask, or else she might die of shame. 

One guard thought he would try his luck and complain about the dress, but Elayne just used a calm spell and let him wander off once it hit. Her heels clicked and she knew that every soldier was watching her go by. Two in training tried to pay attention, with one of the men missing a block entirely from his warhammer wielding friend. A clerk made eye contact and stumbled full into a wall. Scrolls went all over as he rushed to pick them up, her shoes carrying her right past him. 

When she knocked on the door, there was grumbling from inside. “Rikke!” The person who opened it was a Nord, her face weathered from time and travel. She was wearing an officer’s uniform, but her boots had heels. Short ones, but heels nonetheless. They both looked each other up and down, measuring one another. Elayne looking for signs of the other world affecting her, and Elayne probably being judged as whorish. 

“It’s,” She finally looked at Elayne’s face, not expressing any emotion that Elayne could tell. “It’s the Dragonborn, sir.”

“About time.” The general growled. “Send her in.” The general was an old Imperial, with skin like leather and muscles hardly atrophied from time or wastefulness. He looked ready to admonish her, or scream about something. But instead his mind seemed to stop as she entered, her outfit breaking his mindset. A gap in time she took advantage of. 

“General. I’ve need of you at a peace summit.”

Whatever he wanted to say, the General seemed to stare at the slave bands on her thighs the most. “What in the gods do you think you are doing here?”

“I’m trying to stop Alduin. The World Eater.”

“That myth hasn’t been substantiated. We know the dragons are here, but they aren’t making overt moves to conquer or destroy holds. Nor have we seen any evidence that their leader is a demi-Aedra with designs of ending the world.” Tulius said sourly. “What in the name of the Gods gives you the right to call a peace summit?!”

He didn’t believe she was the Dragonborn. He might even associate dragon shouts with what Ulfrik did to Torygg. How could she convince him that this was the right idea? “How many people have you lost to the Dragons already? Or the Volkihar?”

“I’ve lost less than what I’ve lost to the Stormcloaks. A few dozen at most.” 

“The holds are suffering quite a bit. Your soldiers and Stormcloak’s took from the levies of all of the holds. And the war before that, along with the Markarth incident took even more from Skyrim. There are empty homes in many cities now. A lot of widows and sonless mothers. Your legion’s job is to end this conflict, but you haven’t done that successfully. I’m trying to stop the fighting long enough for the Dragon threat to be dealt with. Once I have that, you’ll be free to finish your war without the worry of daedra, vampires or dragons taking advantage of it.” She stared the general in the face. He looked more stubborn than even Ulfrik. “Stormcloak is coming to the summit, as is the queen of the Reach.”

“Queen? Those tribals have a queen?” He glared at Rikke. “Where the fuck are our spies’ reports on this! This is critical information!” He was furious. “And you won’t be seeing me at any cock and pony show of a summit when you visited a revolutionary kingslayer before the legal enforcers of the peace!”

“Everyone but you has confirmed they are coming. Vigilants of Stendarr. College of Winterhold. The last of the Blades. The Companions, Ulfrik Stormcloak himself. The Thalmor are sending their Second Emissary. How thoughtful.” Instead of helping, the general seemed to be grinding his teeth. “All of you are invited to High Hrothgar, to the hall of Talos to speak peacefully about the threat to this hold. Are you angry that I came to you last?”

“Rightfully so. Your gallivanting throughout this province has caused as many problems as you seem to fix. By my reports, you were at Helgen. We don’t even know if you drew that dragon to attack and ruin what should have been a moment of triumph!” 

“You think that I-” She laughed out loud. “That I called Alduin? As you were about to have me beheaded for just walking along the road and harvesting mountain flowers?”

That made the general soften his features. “For that, I am sorry. Our officers were overzealous and wanted every major supporter of Stormcloak to die. Just in case any got out and could continue his war.”

“That doesn’t justify killing someone for just being at the wrong place at the wrong time.” Elayne pointed out. “I’ve done the best I can to respect the ways and customs of Skyrim. To not disturb its dead. Don’t assume I came to you last because it was an insult. I needed Stormcloak to feel like he had the upper hand on you. That way he would actually agree to come without demanding that I bribe him for doing so. Which he still tried to do, but I talked him down. Even got to shout at him.”

“What a relief.” The general said, deadpan. “Your participation in the civil war has been shouting.”

“I sent him flying back fifteen feet into a wall.” She pointed out. “His shout barely moved my feet.”

“Ah. Shouting. Ancient Nord blah blah blah.” Tulius waved his hand. “I don’t care where this summit is being held or why. You’re disrupting the war.”

“The last time this room was used, General,” Elayne leaned on the table, looking at the giant map of skyrim. Flags were all over it. “Ysmir Talos the general of King Cuhlecain planned the attack of Sancre Tor in this chamber. This is the room that your Empire was born in. There is nothing more sacred to Nords. To Ulfrik Stormcloak, this is about as sacred as it gets. When he studied on High Hrothgar, he would spend hours in that room, reflecting upon it.” Arngeir had told her that much. “If you don’t come, you may as well be spitting upon your Empire.”

“We can’t confirm any of those claims. The Graybeards don’t talk to anyone but you. And Stormcloak spent years with them. We can’t trust them.”

Rikke made a sound in the back of her throat. “General, if you value my opinion in the slightest you might wish to take that back. The Greybeards are monks that have been in existence since time immemorial. Before we had a calendar, we had them. No Nord would refuse their summons, nor their blessing upon this kind of meeting. I think the last time the Graybeards said anything was to offer their condolences for the loss of the Septim dynasty. Two hundred years ago. The bards still talk about it.”

Tulius sighed. “I still can’t trust this. You want me to go into territory that belongs to Ulfrik and put my life at risk? Put this entire civil war at risk?”

“I’ve hired the Companions to guard everyone involved. They will escort you all.” Elayne said clearly. “They are highly respected-”

“I don’t care!” Tulius roared. “This all sounds like a bunch of hoopla to drag Stormcloak or I out of our circles of safety and imply that either of us could be capable of further treachery! I can’t trust this, even if it was the most important thing I could do for this war.” The old man looked concerned. “It’s going to be in all of the streets today. You might as well know. The Emperor is on his way here. He and some of his elder council are coming for the wedding of his cousin. It’s not something I can just leave. If I am off at your summit and the Emperor is here and vulnerable, I would be betraying the very oaths that I hold dear.”

“Maybe I should be inviting him, then.” Elayne blurted out. 

“That would be the most daft thing you could do! Inviting an Imperial who has not a single drop of Nord blood into their most sacred sanctum? In a room with Stormcloak himself!”

“It has to be someone with the power to bargain for the Empire.” Elayne pointed out. “And perhaps the Emperor might succeed where you have failed to create conclusive results.”

“I had him! I had him surrounded, captured and with his head on a block!” Tulius roared. “How can you say those results aren’t conclusive?!”

“Alduin seems to be disrupting your war effort rather well, I think.” She replied quietly. “What could I do to convince you that this would be the right thing to do?”

“Besides killing Stormcloak?” He scoffed. “I could hardly do it. I don’t have as much power as you want me to have, Dragonborn. I simply cannot bargain everything that you would need at a summit like this without talking to Amaund Motierre and convincing him to have it in writing first.”

She had heard that name before. Amaund Motierre. He was hiring the Dark Brotherhood. The Night Mother had told Gabrielle that much, apparently. Elanye was just happy someone else got the spotlight for once. “What does he do?” 

“He’s the minister in charge of foreign affairs. Third most powerful seat behind the High Chancellor.” Tulius said, as if scolding a child. “Since Stormcloak is a legally seated Jarl and has no heirs, its a complex situation. I can kill him on a battlefield but not in his city without justification first. So my bargaining power at this table you seem to believe I will have is limited.”

“When does the Emperor arrive?” She asked, quietly. “Perhaps I could make my case before him and his council.”

“Mages will be teleporting them to the old mage’s circle and then he will be brought here to Castle Dour. Sometime in the next few days. Then he will leave the same way he came in. Amaund thought it wise to send the Imperial fleet here. During winter! Thankfully the High Chancellor advocated for the Synod to prepare the old guide posts. The Mages guild used to have circles for teleportation, and mages specifically attuned to one another and these arcane circles. Safe way to travel, but hard on the mages. The Imperial City has one of the few functioning guide posts left, and we have a few mages who were alive back when the Mage’s Guild operated them. So I’ve been able to send important messages to Cyrodil faster than expected. Stormcloak was at the border by Helgen because he doesn’t know I have that ability. He thinks that by cutting off my lines of communication he can win. Smart, but foolhardy when one forgets about Imperial Battlemages.”

“Will you let me talk to him?”

“I can promise that.” Tulius nodded. “Stay in Solitude, should only be a few days before I know when you’ll get time. Then we will discuss more.” He scrunched his face and looked her up and down. “Perhaps, Dragonborn, you can show some more decorum?”

Elayne had made her promise to Taarie and Endarie. “I’m a Breton, General. I am rather free spirited.” Hah! That was the best her tongue could conjure on short notice?! Well, perhaps she should go find a crypt to bury herself in. “This is decorum for me.”

“If you’re going to meet with the Emperor you may wish to find something that covers your blatant connection to the Thalmor.” His eyes trailed down to her thighs.

“These were not my choice.” She emphasized. “I can’t remove them without the blood of their creator.” As well as twenty five thousand gold. Ugh. 

“I’ll take your word for it. Guess you’re not allowed to hide them, huh?”

“Not right now.” She had gotten used to it, at least. The ring that let her ignore the cold was also a key factor. “Thank you, General.”

“You’re welcome. At least someone in this province is thinking about peace.” Rikke spoke up. “Will you be at the Skeever?” Elayne nodded, as she was moved from the room. 

“If Ulfrik is joining this summit, we should expect probing attacks at all of our holds. Perhaps something big from Dawnstar. Track troop movements and see if any of the blacksmiths are making brackets for siege weapons. Reinforce all of the bridges.” Anything further was silenced by the heavy doors. Again, she felt the stares of soldiers as she walked through the castle courtyard. By the time she got back to the Skeever she had passed Endarie in the marketplace, who looked thrilled. Eola looked pleased, grinning like a cat as she returned back to the Skeever. She was in a chair by the fire, her small outfit attracting the attention of a couple of off duty soldiers. They scattered as she approached.

“So?” Eola asked quietly. 

“He doesn’t have bargaining power for everything we need. But he is going to let us talk to someone who does.” She whispered, sitting down in the chair next to her. “But we need to know more about the Volkihar before we meet at the summit.” 

“No one else is going to know more. No one will know for certain how to fight him.” Eola pointed out. “The ravens knew about them, but no more than the Vigilants did. They did have a few effective words of warning. The Volkihar lords can ignore frost resistance. Or they are so powerful that their abilities kill nords through their thick skulls. The Thalmor accepted your letter and sprouted some flowering language about how they will be at the summit. Requesting that they be escorted by the Companions was rejected, of course. Got a signed letter and everything.” She brought out a sealed wax letter. “They probably don’t have much, but I heard about something going wrong at a place called Northwatch by their guards. I think it might have been some kind of vampire attack. So they’re going to be happy to help against the Volkihar.”

“There is one place we can go to find information that no one else can.” Elayne said clearly. “People who will speak about how Harkon was defeated.”

“Isn’t that risky?” Eola asked. “Is it okay for either of us to be there?”

“I am wondering if people talk about the fortress in the other world. There might be someone that knows more.”

“When will we be going?” Eola asked. 

“How about now?” Elayne broke her reverie. “I’m already being mocked for having no decorum. Let’s go to where I’ll at least fit in.” 

Eola nodded. “We won’t be long, right?”

“We will be fine!”

As Elanye would decide later, no they were not fine. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elayne:  
> Moonstone Anklets  
> Moonstone Thigh Bands  
> Navel Piercing  
> Nipple Piercings  
> Moonstone Headband
> 
> Eola:  
> Ebonite Collar  
> Ebonite Bracelets
> 
> Gabriella:  
> Daedric Ring


	23. Chapter 23: Dunmeri Duel

They decided to use  _ Captured Dreams _ from their bedroom. Eola was wearing a deep blue dress that depended upon two very thin straps of fabric to stay up. Elayne had kept her strapless dress on. With some trepidation, she took off her dragon priest mask and set it inside her bag. “So, I have a plan.”

“As you should.”

“You might have some trouble with people thanks to that collar. So I want you to go talk to the marketplace and to people here in the Skeever. See what you can find about the story of how he fought Harkon. I’ll buy our room, and we can use it in the meantime. I’m going to go return some books I stole to the Bard’s College, and convince them to tell me about Harkon. If anyone knows about heroic deeds, it should be them.” 

“The docks might have good information, since we are looking for an island.” Eola pointed out. “If the Bards have nothing for you.”

“That’s a good idea. Let’s meet back up at the Skeever in the evening at the latest.” Elayne nodded. “We will take all the time we need before we meet with anyone else for this summit.” She herself was wearing a very slim dress that appeared backless. It actually had a few thin linen strips that held it close to her torso. It was pretty, and as soon as she leaned around the Skeever to look at the marketplace she saw that she would fit in perfectly. The men were wearing open vests and showing off toned chests and abs. The women were showing off whatever they wanted, though no one was completely naked or topless. It was much colder here than Whiterun, where she had seen Ysolda running around with just a collar around her neck. Oh wait, there was another couple necking in the alleyway, with hands exploring inside of clothing and more. Quietly, she slipped past them with a muffle spell. 

She felt more comfortable here in this Solitude. She could sway her hips, not worried about guards arresting her for public indecency. Unchallenged, she walked through the marketplace and through the streets towards the Blue Palace. Her earrings clanged softly once as she was passing the store Bits and Pieces, but it was an otherwise uneventful hike up to the Bard’s College. Funny enough, the door was locked. It was daylight out, which confused her. So, she knocked on the door. When it opened, it only did so enough for an eye to look her over.

“The College is currently closed.” The woman on the other side of the door stated. “We are not accepting visitors in preparation for a major performance.”

“I was returning stolen property to the Historian.” Elayne spoke, specifically not mentioning that she was the one who stole it. The face through the door narrowed her eyes, and seemed to consider it. 

“I’ll let him know. Please sit in our courtyard and wait. If it takes more than an hour, then perhaps you should visit in two days time, after we have finished our group performance for the Blue Palace.” She politely shut the door after stating that, leaving Elayne to go and walk around to the back of the college. The benches were dry, at least. So she sat down, thigh bands on display. As she faced the college, the light of the midday sun was pushing into the windows and revealing shapes of those inside. Just the outlines, at least. 

One of the bedrooms had a bard inside, an instrument on their shoulder and their body swaying as they played. She wished she could hear more than just the few notes that came through. Looking to the left, there was a far more interesting set of outlines. Two figures were in the middle of a room, clearly having sex. The woman, it had to be; She was holding onto a bedpost as she got hammered from behind. The man behind her was working her over, his hands clenching her hair and slapping her ass interchangeably. That sound was carrying through the window, and Elayne just watched as the pair went at it. She could only see their outlines in the window, but it was the only thing to look at here. Almost in time with the pair moving, she let her tongue apply pressure to her upper lips. 

The coupling ended, and the sun only showed that they were separating. Elayne tried to peek through other windows but couldn’t see much from this angle. It took a few minutes, but she heard the door to the courtyard open, and at least one woman exit. Her heels were making good noise on the tiled pathways through the courtyard. Looking up, Elayne was more than a little shocked to recognize who it was. Giraud Germaine, the dean of history for the college was the first out. He was barely dressed, his clothes loosely clasped and his undershirt not even on. Following along behind him was a naked dunmer. Her purple eyes were looking at the ground, and a set of simple heels were upon her feet. A complicated steel collar decorated her neck.

“Ah.” He grinned. “Welcome to the college. I don’t think we’ve met before.” Elayne made eye contact with them both, and she and the Dunmer immediately recognized each other. This was the woman chained to the end of the bed, who she had to get past in order to steal those books. Even though she recognized her, the Dunmer didn’t seem to be angry.

“We haven’t.” Elayne assured. “But I wanted to return some books that belong to you.” She reached into her bag, bringing out all three of the Tales of the Dragonborn books. “Sorry for any delays in getting them back to you.”

Giraud blinked. “They’ve been missing?” He glared at the dunmer, who wilted. “Stolen? Well, how do I know they didn’t just walk away, hmm? That’s another month without clothes for you, Karliah.” He tutted. “You really don’t seem to want freedom, do you.”

“You don’t have to punish her!” Elayne insisted. “I’ve recovered the books, and am returning them.”

“Ah, miss..?” Giraud seemed to wait to see who he was talking to.

“My name is Gwyn.” She lied smoothly. She didn’t want her real name in use here. “Of Wayrest.” One of the most common names that could be found. 

“Miss Gwyn.” He actually pronounced it correctly to Wayrest’s accent! “This slave is part of the college until she can graduate. It’s the first step of community service she has to perform for stealing from one of the Elder Council. How she got a hold of Amaund Motierre’s amulet of office no one knows, but she was caught red handed trying to sell it here in Solitude. Thankfully the Dragonborn caught her, and locked her in that collar. It’ll shock her if she tries to leave Solitude before her public service is complete.” The Dunmer looked at the floor, depressed and angry. “Sings like a deranged swallow and plays a flute twice as bad. Could be years before she can leave as a bard.” The older man grinned lavisciously. He obviously had no plans of letting go of her. “So my books go missing? Obviously it is her fault.”

“I won’t contest how you manage your slave.” Verbally. Inside she was ready to scream that it was her that stole the books, and she was the one that was trying to make amends! “But I do have questions that I want answered.”

“You’ve got my attention.” Giraud looked her up and down, Elayne feeling self conscious about how short her skirt was. “The College is having an orgy upstairs, so we locked the doors. Once that’s done the chorus line will actually practice our songs and it’ll get hot and heavy once again before dinner. Since we’re performing at the palace tomorrow everyone is on edge. Even frosty Inga.” He chuckled. “What’s on your mind?”

“Harkon and the Volkihar.” Giraud’s eyebrow rose. “There are conflicting details about the story that I’ve heard.”

“The bards haven’t had much time to look over that one. It was only resolved just last year, after all. Sorry if any of my people have confused you.” He seemed to act like it was alright to ask about. “What’s confusing?”

“I was told that Harkon was some vampiric lord or champion.” She pointed out first. “But no one described what he looked like. Or his own history.”

“Mmhm.” Giraud noted, sitting at a bench next to her and dragging Karliah to sit on the cold stone tile in front of him. “Ask all of your questions and I’ll see what I can clarify.”

He didn’t want to answer her piecemeal. Well, fine! “I heard somewhere that Serana was found in Riften, in some secret vault. And that Harkon was defeated using some combination of cheese and garlic. And I have no idea what their island is like. No one seems to know.”

Giraud laughed. “I’ll have to remember the garlic one. Some vampires don’t like it, but the Volkihar are a very dangerous breed. Doesn’t do a thing to them.” He turned in his seat towards her, knees almost touching her bare ones. “I’ll be happy to answer your questions, for something in return. I’ve actually been to the island in question, and would happily explain more if you can ease the pain I’ve been dealing with this entire conversation.” He eased his clothes open, and Elayne caught a very familiar shape sticking out of his pants. “You see, your request interrupted my preparations for tomorrow’s performance!” Giraud wasn’t looking at the Dunmer, who rolled her eyes. “What say you, Gwyn? Take care of my nerves and I’ll answer your questions.”

The courtyard was empty. No one had passed by this part of the Bard’s College. Elayne nibbled her lip, thinking back to other times in this world she had used sex to get something she needed. Her knees had hit the tile before she herself had realized it, and she was now facing the turgid penis of Giraud. She had to use one of her hands to move aside some of his clothing, the full length revealed. “I would never want to say I was not treated with,” She started saying, moving forward to bring her face within range. “The hospitality you are known for.” She kissed it, closing her eyes as her lips came into contact. The smell of sex was filling her nostrils, probably from the Dunmer’s coupling earlier. Her tongue was next, confirming that with vigor. It was entirely unexpected when she felt something kissing her lips  _ around _ the penis. 

Opening her eyes, she was staring nose to nose with Karliah. Those purple eyes were staring at her, and she felt her entire body flush. “I should mention.” Giraud spoke conversationally. “Karliah is competitive. You want your questions answered, you’ll have to get past the best cocksucker in the college.” Karliah’s tongue flicked out, hooking underneath Elayne’s upper lip and toying with her. She felt hot, her body warm even in the cold breeze of Solitude. Elayne moved down, but Karliah kept making out with her over the hot rod of flesh. Everywhere Elayne tried to touch, Karliah’s lips met her own. Her tongue was jousting with the Dunmer’s, and through it all those purple eyes were staring her down. 

Back up the length she went, heading for the glistening tip. Giraud was keeping any reaction he was having muted, but Elayne was not about to lose her chances. She pushed past the lips of Karliah, bringing her mouth over the head and finally sucking on it. Down and down she went, until her mouth felt very full. Dangerously close to too full. Karliah was still nose to nose with her, off to her left side. She reached out and licked the furthest point that Elayne had gotten to, and started kissing her forcefully, pushing on her lips even as her mouth was filled! Pulling back, the Dunmer kept at it, forcing Elayne off of Giraud entirely! 

Karliah promptly filled the space, taking Giraud even deeper than Elayne ever did! Elayne moved forwards once again, trying to get ahead of the Dunmer. But there was hardly any room between the dusky skinned nose and the base! Elayne tried a new tactic, and sucked on Karliah’s neck. There was a low groan from the Dunmer, her throat looking slightly strained. Elayne kept it up, until she had to come back off for air. Elayne gave a gentle pull on her dark hair, her lips losing connection with a popping sound. Not to be discouraged, Elayne filled the space immediately, trying to get deeper than she did last time. She tried not to panic as the hot veiny flesh filled her mouth, and pushed against her throat. For a moment, she felt so unbearably full that she couldn’t go any deeper. 

Karliah proved her wrong with a surprise lick against her upper back, and Elayne gasped and pushed past her previous limits. Her throat pushed open, and her eyes were wide as she saw her nose almost touching the skin ahead. Her body panicked, and she drew back off of the penis to breathe. Karliah, not to be outdone replaced her immediately. Elayne was gasping, but felt a surge of anger at the thought of giving up now. 

Back and forth it went. One woman would suck and blow, while the other would try to find a way to get them off so that they could take her place. The pace was feverish, as lips chased each other up and down over and over again. At some point, neither were even sucking all the way anymore. It was more of a makeout between Karliah, Elayne and the cockhead. Her mouth felt hot, the rest of her body feeling almost too warm. Any aches or pains from being on the tiled courtyard were ignored for the touches and gasps of herself and Karliah. Karliah found her piercings, and started pulling on them. Not hard, but a gentle tug on first the left and then the right. 

Giraud clapped once, and as if trained to do so Karliah stood up and aligned her hips with Giraud’s. Elayne was pushed back as she watched Karliah mount the glistening man meat, her facial features one of disgust. She didn’t want to do that. But she did seem to like making out with Elayne. Mouth open, Elayne watched as Giraud sighed in relief, and Karliah shudder. “Until she graduates, she’s just a slave. This is about the only thing she seems to be good at.” 

The dean of history seemed to rest his elbows on the bench, looking up at the sky as if he wasn’t having sex in public in the middle of the day. “You’ve been to Harkon’s fortress?” She finally asked, breathlessly. Karliah was pouting on his lap, her purple eyes giving a baleful glare at her nether regions. Evidence of Giraud’s attention was pouring out of her, and Elayne had a hard time staring at anything else. Focus, Elayne! Focus on what you are here for!

Painstakingly, she took her eyes off of Karliah and focused on the man she had mounted. Giraud looked to be in quite the blissful state. “After Harkon fell, the Dragonborn allowed some bards to come and document what happened to let him go down. Naturally, I was selected to go. I had to show him how well Karliah was doing, after all! She was a gift almost eighteen months back, and Giraud Germaine never forgets a good deed!” 

“What made the Dragonborn start fighting Harkon? He’s been around for more than an era, right?”

“Harkon is older than the Alessian Empire.” Elayne shuddered at that. “Yeah, scary thought. Didn’t get out much, or else people might be concerned. But at some point he got ahold of and read an elder scroll that told him a prophecy. That the sun itself would become dark. Vampires would walk without fear, and the ‘tyranny of the sun’ would come to an end. It’s all written down in White-Gold Tower as well. A moth priest recorded the prophecy, and it was actually a prophecy made by a  _ different _ vampire.” The old man laughed, making Karliah shake a bit. “A Snow Elf, as crazy as that sounds. There are a couple left. Or so the Dragonborn mentioned in passing. He also said they are trying to come back from the brink of extinction. Either way, Harkon believed in this prophecy. But in order to fully understand it, he needed to read three elder scrolls. The prophecy was kept separate. So, in order to affect the sun permanently and piss off most of the Aedra, Harkon needed Auriel’s Bow, but no one has seen that since the Third Era. He also needed to sacrifice his own daughter to do it, but he had trouble finding her. Serana, the Dragonborn’s mage-slave. That’s the one he was looking for thousands of years for.”

“So, what was stopping him from finding his daughter? How did he lose her?”

“That one the Dragonborn didn’t want to share. Kind of personal, apparently. Either way, she was buried in a crypt that would only open for destiny or something. But she had the scroll that promised that the ‘Eye of the Dragon would be blinded by the Daughter of Coldharbour’. The sun, as Harkon seemed to believe. As the prophecy was never fulfilled, I guess we will never know.” The old man seemed so pleased to know the exact wording. Elayne was just writing things down in her journal as fast as she could. 

“Where was this crypt?” Elayne asked, trying not to act too eager. Or look back at Karliah. Which was oddly harder. 

“Dimhallow.” The historian said clearly. “I believe it was in a place called Dimhallow. Haven’t been there, I try not to make a practice of ending up like the last dean of history. Lost his mind and his flute in some ruin chasing a rumor.” 

She had been there once! Two Vigilants of Stendarr had been digging out the entrance the same day she and Silus had summoned Mehrunes Dagon. “And you’ve been to Harkon’s castle?”

“Volkihar Castle. Oh yes. It has a fantastic tower filled with Ayleid magic stones, which are able to do some fairly fantastic things! They could summon mist to hide their island at any time. And if they sacrificed some of their thralls they could freeze the entire ocean around their castle, snapping ships in half. Since they don’t need to breathe they have no trouble looting the dead once the ships sink. Oh yes, if ever there was sunken treasure to be found, I’d find an Argonian or a vampire to do the job. Still, their defenses were considerable. Then they had rocks that animated into gargoyles as summons and static defenses. A few odd experiments with dogs, and then the thralls and vampires. Once the Dragonborn got past all of that? Oh my, he had to fight Harkon himself.”

“What was that like?” It wasn’t hard for Elayne to stay interested in this kind of topic.

“The Dragonborn said it was the hardest single fight of his career.” Giraud mentioned. “Or perhaps the second hardest, since he talked about Solstheim too.” He waved his hands, letting one rest on Karliah’s hip. “He said it nearly killed him, Serana, and the mercenaries he brought. Not that I could find evidence that he didn’t do it alone. He fought Harkon from the highest ramparts to the lowest depths of the castle before finally ending the fight in front of a massive shrine of Molag Bal within the heart of the castle. He fought him to the death in there. By the gods the place was still torn up. Harkon’s breath could freeze even the heartiest of Nords, and his claws cut through steel as if it didn’t exist. The Dragonborn wears daedric armor, so he was at least alright there. But it was still a very close call.”

Elayne didn’t have near that level of protection. “So anyone else would have died”

“Harkon was something of a pure-blooded vampire. From what little the Dragonborn knew of his life, the man trained relentlessly with his abilities. Thousands of years of it. The Dragonborn said that the only way to attack his castle was during a solar eclipse or a summer so hot we could go back to Atmora.” The older man chuckled. “He lost the pride of the Imperial fleet just landing there. Though he did set up catapults on shore and made it look like he was going to bombard the castle from range. Really I believe he infiltrated using a water walking spell and ran across the top of the water with his supporters. Probably for the best, since the Volkihar can attack through ice.”

“That sounds horrible.”

“Exactly.” Giraud grinned. “So, is there anything else I can help you with, miss Gwyn?”

“What happened to those Elder Scrolls?”

“Returned back to the Empire where they belong.”

“I’m sure the Empire was grateful.”

“Amaund Motierre was. Wasn’t he, Karliah?” Giraud gave the Dunmer a gentle slap on the ass, making her squirm. 

“He seemed to be.” Karliah assented, not at all pleased to have him brought up. 

“You had to apologize. The man who wrote the Imperial side of the White-Gold Concordat is not wise to steal from! He’s the Elder Council’s minister of foreign affairs. Karliah spent twelve hours apologizing to him very personally.” The Dunmer’s purple eyes stayed closed, probably trying to forget that experience. “Though the rumors about him and the Dark Brotherhood were of course proven false.”

But that was true, wasn’t it? Gabriella had said that she was supposed to meet with him. “We should never speak poorly of public officials when in public.” Elayne whispered. 

“A Bard knows no limits when speaking of public officials. Think of King Olaf! He had his bard killed for insulting him, and the song lasted through the ages vilifying him. So Kings and great men and women keep that in mind.” Giraud seemed to look up at the sky, with the clouds moving overhead. “But now I believe it is time for me to return to actual college business. Come back in a few days, and I’ll have much more time and attention for a woman of your proclivities. Up, Karliah. Time to go practice your poetry.” 

The Dunmer’s steel collar went flush against her skin as she breathed hard, her heels bracing as she pulled herself off of Giraud’s cock. Elayne failed utterly to avoid looking at that. Or at the drops of liquid that fell onto the ground as she did so. “Does anyone know how to get to that island?” She asked, before Giraud could stand himself. 

“Let me go chain down Karliah and you can pay for a copy of the map. I think I have a few around. For you, ten septims.” Giraud groaned as he stood, leading Karliah back inside. Elayne and Karliah had a long stare, as the Dunmer’s purple eyes rested on her for a long moment. Elayne still felt hot, bothered and somehow unfulfilled. Almost as if drawn by a magnet, her eyes went to the small puddle on the tile that Karliah left behind. Her tongue darted out, licking her lips completely without her input. 

Looking around, she saw that she was alone out here. Karliah and Giraud had gone back inside the college, and Elayne couldn’t be seen by anyone. “No one would know.” She whispered, still on her knees in front of the bench. Carefully, her pointer and middle fingers collected the contents of the puddle, almost feeling electrified. Without further ado, she slathered it onto her tongue like it was the honey on a sweet roll. 

Elayne came back to herself in that moment, as she realized what she had just done. “Ah!” She squeaked, feeling more than slightly aroused. She had just eaten cum off of the ground! Why?! That was disgusting! She moved her head to spit, every part of her brain screaming to get rid of what was on her tongue right now. But instead, her body ignored her and she swallowed it. Glaring at her offending hand, Elayne stood up and wiped dirt off of her knees. Ten gold came out of her bag, along with another twenty for a bribe.

Giraud returned with a few slips of paper and a much more put together appearance. “I’ve got a map for you.” He said clearly, clearing his throat. “Along with a short eulogy on the fortress itself. You sound like you might enjoy it.” He chuckled, giving her a wave as he moved back inside a few septims richer. But Elayne’s surprises were not over yet. Giraud’s window was cracked open, and she saw a paper flutter out of the gap before the window slammed shut once again. 

It looked like a hastily scrawled note. The ink was still drying, the hand that wrote it clearly in a hurry. But Elayne read it nonetheless. 

‘ _ DO NOT TRUST DRAGONBORN. Thieves Guild Grandmaster. Proof? Vekel the Man’s House. Ratway. Shadowfoot Sanctum. Keeps Secrets There.’ _ The note was unsigned, but it could only have come from Karliah. 

Elayne’s eyebrows were rising. She could use this! Finding the Dragonborn of this world’s secrets? That would be a damn sight more helpful than just a few notes about Harkon. While that would be enough to help with the summit, Elayne felt like there was more she could learn. But going to the marketplace and bartering for what little she had to trade wasn’t going to amount to much. Idly, she sucked on her fingers as she considered what to do next. Her heels took her back to the marketplace, and the smell of fresh baked loaves of bread. 

The blacksmiths and Bits and Pieces offered little to nothing. But she did watch a Stormcloak spy executed in the main square. Or so it was claimed to be. The soldiers looked tired. Like this was common enough in happening. Their eyes looked empty, and the soldiers just seemed exhausted. She wandered around the markets until the sun went down, but she couldn’t see Eola. She wasn’t in the Skeever. There were plenty of soldiers off duty, but not a single one of them wanted to talk to her. 

The gates sealed shut, and Elayne slept alone that night. Eola had not returned. That was undeniably a bad sign. Still, she stripped down to nothing and tried to sleep that night. First thing in the morning, she would go down and look for her at the docks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elayne:  
> Moonstone Anklets  
> Moonstone Thigh Bands  
> Navel Piercing  
> Nipple Piercings  
> Moonstone Headband
> 
> Eola:  
> Ebonite Collar  
> Ebonite Bracelets
> 
> Gabriella:  
> Daedric Ring


End file.
